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sparklingnight02 · 2 years

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Pride Month modern AU headcanons

Hey guys! In celebration of my first ever Pride Month I get to celebrate as a fully out, bi girl, thought you guys who are possibly interested in my modern AU some of you may have seen on my wattpad I mentioned in another post would be interested in headcanons for how the characters celebrate Pride Month along with other headcanons related to their sexualities and other stuff like that!

-For their sexualities, Karl and Alcina both are pan and hate that they even share the same sexualities lol.

-Donna is bi and makes it VERY obvious lol in later chapters! As you'll clearly see lol! She's also demiromantic so although she's willing to occasionally sleep with others without the relationship, she can't really fall in love with someone she hasn't known beforehand.

-Salvatore is gay although didn't know it until college so would still try to go on dates with girls in highschool and such only just assumed he's never found the right person yet.

-In their teen years once they start learning about this kind of thing, Bela is actually bisexual although isn't interested in dating at the time.

-Cassandra is asexual/homoromantic although identified as aroace because she didn't think you COULD have a romantic relationship with anyone and NOT have sex, plus being a bit of an introvert, generally just found ALL people annoying lol so never actually cared for anyone in that way before.

-Daniela is gay through and through and got a girlfriend at 16, although didn't tell anyone right away until she got caught kissing her girlfriend in the park one day by some random, nosy, busy body homophobe.

-Miranda actually identifies as homoflexible as although she mostly was interested in women, she's found the few men she WAS willing to sleep with she actually enjoyed it although usually generally prefers women.

-Ethan is actually bi although wasn't really aware of it until Donna jokingly asked if he'd be interested in Karl if he were single to which after thinking about it, realized he either has a thing for women AND men, or just a thing for women and KARL lol! (Ethan Winters haters, get outta here, this fic has him in it and if you can't respect I ship him and Alcina just don't read this book then)

-Rosemary is actually homosexual although is aromantic which had Ethan MAJORLY relieved lol about the fact he probably won't have to worry about who Rose dates lol or about an accidental teen pregnancy lol!

-For how they celebrate Pride Month, Alcina and her daughters usually go ALL out! Alcina makes sure they all have at least ONE rainbow item on their bodies! When the girls were young these were usually just a little rainbow necklace for Bela, rainbow face paint for Cassandra, and a little rainbow skirt for Daniela, while Alcina usually just wore a rainbow neck tie, although as they got older, the girls switched to Bela wearing a rainbow cap with "Love is love" written on the front, Cassandra would just wear rubber, rainbow bracelets, and Daniela would have a rainbow hand fan to stay cool in June, while Alcina just continued to wear her tie. Alcina has also put a miniature rainbow flag on her car antennae and a giant rainbow flag hanging off the edge of the balcony on the front of her mansion (because of course this woman would be rich lol).

-Donna isn't usually as out there with showing her support although still shows it but just in more subtle ways, usually she just paints her nails rainbow and plants flowers to look like the rainbow and bi pride flags in her garden, she's noticed a funny pattern with this where only LBGTQ+ folk seem to notice these things while the homophobes she usually tries to avoid never do, she finds it funny how it's the perfect way of still showing those who would care about this stuff she still supports them, while also avoiding those who would get stupidly offended over it and attack her for it.

-Karl doesn't usually celebrate Pride Month as openly as the others although will still show his support by having a rainbow patch of sorts temporarily sewn onto his shirt or something or will have some kind of rainbow pride sticker on his motorcycle or helmet. ('cause FUCK if Karl on a motorcycle isn't hot as FUCK!! 😍😍😍)

-Sal on the other hand is even more obvious than the Dimitrescu's lmao! Going all out with gay T-shirts and tiny rainbow pride flags he takes everywhere with him and has a giant gay pride flag rainbow painted over the entrance to his place and just has all SORTS of cheesy pride paraphernalia basically everywhere, even having temporary pride tattoos on his face, the others all think it's cute though how excited he gets about Pride Month though and don't really mind.

-Despite actually liking women, it probably doesn't come as much of a surprise to any of you, Miranda doesn't celebrate Pride Month, if anything she doesn't even really tell people ANYTHING about her sexuality so most just assume she's straight lol, although before she went all insane she actually DID use to go to pride parades in the past and even in the modern day isn't really against same sex couples really, she's just against ALL couples PERIOD lol, at least under her roof! So at the very least she's fair about it lol to some extent! 😂

-Ethan and Rose generally just celebrate Pride Month with the Dimitrescu's and follow in their traditions of having something rainbow somewhere on their body, even before Ethan knew he was bi and identified as straight he still wanted to show support for his daughter and her friends and basically adoptive mom lol.

-For any of you who have read on LBGTQ+ situations in Romania though, it probably doesn't come as much of a surprise though that a lot of them have to sometimes face the occasional homophobia and in the unfortunate case of Karl, Donna and Alcina, bi/panphobia as well, although not that often in person, a few times on the internet they've had to deal with people accusing them of 'betraying the LGBTQ+ community' by being in 'straight passing' relationships, as if being with someone of the opposite gender suddenly erases the ability to still be attracted to people of the same sex or erases the B in LGBTQ+.

-Daniela's girlfriend has actually also run into a similar problem, although she identifies as lesbian, she's actually a gynephile, which has led to her running into the problem of lesbians getting mad at her for identifying as that because although MOST people she's attracted were female, she isn't attracted to women ONLY and is more generally attracted to femininity, so has actually stated she WOULD actually be willing to date a GUY if he's feminine enough and actually has a guy friend she said she'd be willing to date 'cause of how feminine he is, busty body, long, soft hair, wide hips, soft, feminine face, and is not above cross dressing or wearing makeup.

-Luckily though among all the homophobia and biphobia and panphobia though they also get a lot of support from others also outside the LGBTQ+ community as well, Donna and Karl getting tons of support from people on the internet as well about what a great couple they make and Alcina and Ethan being jokingly told they still come off as gay themselves but in a straight relationship lol because of how Alcina is clearly the one to wear the pants in the relationship lol!

Anyways, those were my Pride Month headcanons guys, hope you enjoyed learning a little more about this AU and for any of you who doesn't like the Donnaberg or Alcithan ship or just don't like Ethan or straight ships in general, just don't read this and don't go crazy over the fact I have different, slightly unpopular opinions, just stop reading if you see something you don't like and scroll past!

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nick-thecreator · 3 years

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Just had an idea for a story... It’s called “Aftermath Revival: Human AU” Part 1

(I’ll add more to this later, I wrote this off of one idea, and a bit quick, so I might edit it to make it better/more reasonable. Also, I should have asks open if anyone has any questions [Cause I know there will be...])

Part 2 is Here

Part 3 is Here

The explosion rocked the entire village, flattening the majority of it. Only the houses on the outskirts were safe, being slightly cracked and torn, but didn’t fully flatten them. In one of these houses, The Duke had closed his doors to his shop, holding his most valuable items close to his body, hoping that his abundance of fat would act as a pillow for it.

Once the explosion was over, through the quakes and falling rubble, he came out almost untouched. He then opened his door, just a crack though, so he could see the damage. There were a few cracks, but, for the most part, the house was fine. Seeing the coast being clear, he opened his doors fully, putting his valuables back onto the shelf. He looked around more, seeing if there were any survivors, even a few lycan. Nothing could be seen, or even heard. He felt a bit concerned, wondering if anyone was hiding, or if everyone else was truly dead. He looked out one of the windows, seeing that part of the Dimitrescu residence was still, surprisingly intact, even if the rest of it was in shambles. He wondered if the other lords’ residences were still somewhat together, looking back at the small crystal sculptures that he had placed on the top shelf.

He smiled at them, before noticing that one of the sculptures, Karl’s, was gone! He panicked, searching around his shop for it, turning as much as he could to get a full view of his surroundings. After a while of searching, he heard a small groan of pain.

“Hello?” He shouted out, grabbing one of his many guns, just to defend himself in case it was a lycan. He didn’t want to use it, considering that it was a shop item, but it was for self-defense. A figure walked into view.

“Duke?” He heard, a thick Mid-Western American accent present.

“Lord Heisenberg?” The Duke asked, shocked. Karl walked into the house, in his regular clothes, with small specks of dirt and what looked like small crystals on his clothes. He had his hand on his forehead, rubbing his head and temples.

“How the hell…” Karl groaned, looking up at The Duke. The Duke stared at him in shock, Karl’s presence being completely unexpected. Karl took his sunglasses off, rubbing his eyes. “What happened? Where is everyone?” He seemed dazed, his tone confused and slightly in pain.

“I…” The Duke tried to answer, but he really didn’t have answers that would help his questions. He usually had everything, but this one really stumped him. He would have never been able to call this.

After a while, Karl and The Duke spoke about what had happened as The Duke brought his shop around the remains of the village, a few questions lingering on their minds. The Duke would look back once in a while, seeing if what happened to Karl was going to happen to the others. Once they arrived at the remains of The Dimitrescu Castle, The Duke looked behind him again, seeing that Alcina’s sculpture was gone too. “Karl?”

“What?” He asked, his headache gone at this point.

“Do you see anybody around?” The Duke looked around a bit.

“No-” Karl stopped, seeing a figure slowly stand up in front of one of the windows, the darkness of the building hiding who it was. They weren’t nearly as tall as Alcina, but they had a similar figure. “Hey!” Karl yelled up to them, them turning their head to the window, sticking their head out.

“Who’s there?” They yelled out, their head being lit up by the sunlight once they stuck their head out the window. It was Alcina! She too had her hand on her temple, her eyes squinted from the light.

“Come down here! Now!”

“Alright, give me a second,” She yelled back, walking away from the window. After a bit, she walked through the doorway near the window on the lower floor. She was in the same clothes, however, she had rolled up her dress so she wouldn’t step on it. She was holding her hat, tipping it back so it would be out of her face, but it also shielded her body from the sun. Her jewelry didn’t fit her anymore, her necklace hanging on her neck, sliding down her chest. She was still tall, but not 9’6 tall, more like 6’5 now. “Care to give me an explanation on our predicament!?” She asked angrily to The Duke.

He put his hands up, replying with, “Relax my lord, relax. At least you’re safe-”

“AND SHORT! I’M A MIDGET NOW!” She yelled, incredibly upset. She looked like she was about to cry. Seems to have been decades since she was a “normal” height. The Duke and Karl looked at eachother, shrugging, before looking back at Alcina. After a bit of breathing to calm herself down, she asked, “Well, where are my daughters? If I’m alive, they MUST be.” The Duke looked behind him, seeing the sculptures of her three daughters, still sitting there on the shelf below the top one.

“I’m sorry madam, but-” He grabbed the sculptures. “They are still-”

“MY BABIES!” She quickly snatched them away from him, holding them close. “My poor little angels…” She started to cry onto the statues as Karl and The Duke just stood there in silence. Eventually, The Duke just offered to let her sit on the side of the shop so they could keep looking around. She took it, sitting by The Duke, her daughters still in her arms, slightly rocking them. Karl stood on the opposite side of the shop, keeping his eyes away from her.

A while later, they arrive at the outskirts of The Beneviento Residence. The bridge was broken, but thankfully, there was another route around to get to the house, however, it took around an hour to get there with that route. Karl groaned when heard about how long it would take, his feet hurting at this point. The Duke offered to let him sit on the shop side, but Karl declined, however, halfway through the walk, Karl quickly jumped onto the side, sitting down. The Duke, once he noticed, just rolled his eyes as they went along. Once they reached the house, Karl looked around the residence as The Duke looked at the shelf again, wondering if Angie was going to disappear. However, instead, Angie slowly started to come to life. Literally.

“What the fuck! Where’s Donna!?” She yelled, trying to look threatening in front of The Duke. Karl turned back to Angie.

“Donna?” He asked.

“Yes! Her! Where is she?!”

“No, is that you Donna?”

“No! I’m LOOKING for DONNA!” She clarified before hopping out of the shop and looking around. “We need to find her! She could be in danger!”

“We are looking for her,” The Duke replied. “I’m assuming that you wish to help?”

“YES!” She yelped, running into the house, somehow getting the door open. Karl kept searching for Donna outside as The Duke looked around as well, but mainly comforted Alcina as she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes without getting her dress dirty with her mascara. The Duke was kind of unsure that she was revived too, but he didn’t want to deny that she had been, considering Angie’s rude awakening. After a while, a few hours specifically, Karl returned to the shop.

“She ain’t around outside, maybe Angie found her-”

“COME ON! We need to go!” Angie yelled from inside the house, opening the door. She was holding Donna’s hand, Donna seeming to be almost completely perplexed. She had a large backpack on her along with her regular clothing. “See? They are here too!” Angie dragged her over to them, seeming to smile, even though she technically couldn’t. Donna just shrugged her head onto her shoulders, slightly waving before looking up to The Duke.

“How did you get here?” She asked in her regularly quiet tone.

“I used the back road,” He replied. She just nodded as he patted a spot on the shop side. “We should probably keep going. We still have one more person to get, considering.” He looked over his shoulder, seeing Salvatore’s sculpture. Karl’s attention went from Donna to The Duke.

“Moreau?” He thought for a second looking at the other two. “Will he be changed too?” He asked, somewhat with a form of childlike curiosity. The Duke slightly chuckled at his tone. Donna sat down next to Karl, Angie sitting on her lap. Donna poked around at Angie a bit, seeming trying to figure out how she was alive completely on her own. The Duke started to drive his shop out back onto the back road. On the road, Karl looked at her backpack, it slightly bumping into him. “What’s in the bag Donna?”

She took a minute to answer, before whispering, “Stuff I thought I’d need, and stuff for Angie.” Karl asked further, but she didn’t answer much, mainly focused on Angie, who seemed to be a bit irritated by the prodding. Karl was sure that, if Donna wasn’t Donna, Angie would’ve yelled at her and swatted her hand away by now. Alcina had stopped crying at this point, but stayed silent still, watching the road as they drove along, her daughters in her lap.

About 2 hours later, they could see the outskirts of the Moreau residence, passing by the clinic while heading to the main reservoir. While passing it, a loud groan could be heard from inside the clinic. While Karl, Donna, Angie, and Alcina looked over to the clinic, The Duke looked behind him, seeing that Salvatore’s sculpture was gone. Karl and Donna saw it too, Karl jumping off of the shop, running towards the clinic. Angie went after him, Donna getting dragged along. Karl busted the door down, looking around the small room.

He looked down to the floor, seeing Salvatore’s coat on the floor, with something, someone, underneath. Fingertips were sticking out of the ends of the sleeves, a bit of black hair sticking out the top, and with lower legs and feet sticking out the bottom. Once Angie and Donna had gotten into the clinic, Karl had taken the coat off of him. Under the coat, a man laid on the floor, only in a pair of dark green pants, stained with mud and what seemed to be puke, slightly breathing, groaning and coughing slightly. Besides the scars and acne scars that lined his back and the beginnings of his arms, and a small set of gills on his neck, he seemed… pretty normal, and the “mother” tattoo confirmed who it was. Karl looked over to Donna, gesturing to Salvatore.

“Help me out here, will ya?” He asked, trying to pick him up by his arm, trying to pull him over his back. Donna ran over, picked him up by the other arm, helping Karl as Angie cleared one of the operating tables. Karl and Donna hoisted him onto it, putting him face up. Once they got him up there, Alcina was in the doorway, a bag with her that had her daughters in it. She looked at Salvatore, her face turning to confusion, before almost looking like her expression was going to fall off her face. He was white, with long back hair that went halfway down his chest. He wasn’t very muscular, but he certainly wasn’t fat or skinny either. It was more like a dad-bod, like Karl, but a bit bigger. He also seemed to be a bit taller than Karl as well. Karl was going to ask her about it before Salvatore coughed a little, groaning in pain, slowly opening his eyes. His eyes were a dark green, as if the yellows and greys that used to be there had disappeared, along with the rest of his monstrous form. They turned back to him, looking down on him on the operating table. He looked up at each of them, before sitting his head up slightly.

“Donna…” He murmured, before his eyes shot open, moving Karl to the side before leaning his head over the side of the table, throwing up. Alcina jumped back, a disgusted look on her face as Angie jumped onto a table to get away from the vomit. Salvatore groaned, putting his hand on his head. Donna went to place a hand on his shoulder, before he just yelled out, placing his hands over his ears, his legs coming up. “GET OUT YOU BASTARD!” He shrieked, sitting up. “LEAVE ME BE!” He brought his head to his knees. He yelled one more time before going silent, lightly breathing. Karl, Angie, and Alcina stood far back as Donna placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Um… Sal?” She quietly asked, pulling at her face covering. He slowly looked over to her, wiping his mouth.

“Sorry Donna…” He apologized, smiling at her. “It’s been a while, huh?” She tilted her head slightly, before she jumped back in shock. Salvatore’s eyes widened, realizing that the obvious had never occurred to him, that she wouldn’t know what he was referring to. It upsetted him a bit, but it did make sense. Donna held up a finger in a “just a second” way, before running out of the clinic. While she was gone, he went on stand up, before grabbing his head again, stomping his foot on the floor. He hissed in pain, realizing he was barefoot, stomping on concrete, but it did seem to stop his nuisance. He was then able to stand, but his back was a bit stiff, making him slouch. To Karl and Angie’s shock, he placed his hands on his back, pushing it forward to loosen the muscles in his back, finally standing up straight. Alcina stood in silence with Karl and Angie, but didn’t seem to be in as much shock as the two. As Salvatore looked at himself, Donna ran back in, a picture frame in her hands. She stood in front of Salvatore, holding up the frame, before it slipped out of her hands, shattering on the floor. Salvatore was confused for a second, before looking down and seeing the people in it.

The photo contained two people. One of the people seemed to be Donna, in the clothing that could be seen in one of her large portraits, but without Angie, surprisingly. The other person to the right was a taller man in a doctor’s uniform. He was white with dark green eyes, with his black, long hair tied back in a ponytail, some of it wasn’t tied with the rest, so it slipped underneath the rest of it, the ends resting on his shoulders. They stood side by side, seemingly outside in front of one of the gardens that used to be lined around the village, her holding onto the crook of his arm. Donna was too busy standing there in shock, placing her now empty hand on his face, as if to check for something. He smiled at her, closing his eyes and placing a hand over hers.

“I missed you Donna. I hope I didn’t scare you.” The small part of her face covering that was touching her face became a bit wet.

“Doctor?…”

#resident evil village #residentevil #residentevil8 #theduke #karl heisenberg #karl heisenburg #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #moreau #resident evil human au #resident evil 8 human au #resident evil village human au #human au #au #fanfiction #nick the creator #aaaaaa

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screechthemighty · 3 years

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An Essay About Resident Evil: Village That No One Asked For But I’m Posting It Anyways

So, the Beneviento House is my favorite part of Village for two reasons. One: it’s the scariest part of the game, don’t @ me. Two: On a second play through, it actually reveals a lot about the issues in Ethan and Mia’s marriage. There’s a lot to unpack here with that, but the tl;dr of it is this: I believe what Ethan experiences in House Beneviento is trip into Ethan’s psyche rather than an actual, physical event, and this trip confirms that his arguments with Mia were made worse by a) him worrying about Rose more than he worries about himself, and b) him assuming that Mia is worried about the same things he is; thus, his hallucinations of her are more a reflection of himself than they are of reality.

All of my logic and evidence is under the cut. Fair warning, it’s very long, I am so sorry, I really am. Aso, please note this is NOT a Mia-bashing post. We do not engage in Mia-bashing on this blog. Please go to someone else’s blog if you want to engage in Mia-bashing. Thank you.

There’s two important things to establish here. First: I think that 99% of what Ethan experiences in House Beneviento isn’t real, and is at least partially a manifestation of Ethan’s inner psyche. The evidence is as follows:

It makes no sense that Ethan would lose his entire inventory within the space of 0.5 seconds after the lights shut off. It makes much more sense that mind control made him think he no longer had a gun.

Several of the items and information used in the puzzles are things that Donna, logically, shouldn’t have access to. The music box was still in their home when Chris arrived (which wasn’t that long ago, keep in mind), I doubt Miranda cared enough to find out Rose’s preferred toys and the identity of who gifted them the music box, and there’s no way Donna would be able to get that picture of “Mia’s” dead body. Mia’s wedding ring is tentatively on this list, too; Donna would have access to it, since Mia was being held captive at the time, but I can’t remember if Mia is still wearing it when Chris saves her, so put that one down as a “maybe.”

You stab Angie (or, more properly, stab Donna) for the final time in the back room by the elevator. However, right after stabbing and killing her, you are suddenly by the front door again, the main part of the house is in shambles in a way that suggests a struggle, and you’re not holding the scissors anymore. If you try to backtrack to check the elevator, the door leading to that part of the house is locked (presumably From The Other Side, as they often are in RE).

Additionally, your entire inventory is spontaneously back in your pockets. In Biohazard, if you had inventory taken off of you, it had to be retrieved from a box later. Not this time (though, granted, this game doesn’t HAVE inventory boxes, but it’s an interesting detail when combined with everything else).

All of this, to me, points to Ethan having probably never left the main foyer throughout the majority of that mind trip. As for the hallucinations being fueled mostly by his psyche, a diary entry from the gardener mentions that the plants made him hallucinate his deceased wife, and as mentioned above, a lot of the puzzle relates to things specific and personal to Ethan. While I don’t doubt that Donna could and probably did influence the hallucination a bit (she is a puppet master after all), the building blocks were all there in Ethan’s head.

Second Important Thing to Establish: Ethan was completely missing the point during his arguments with Mia in the lead up to Village.

I’m of the opinion that the fights Ethan mentions in his diary were not a constant thing. I think they only started, at the earliest, while Mia was pregnant, but for sure after Rose was born. This is because pretty much all the canon evidence we see about their fights circles back to Rose. The diary entry where Ethan describes the fight they had is dated four days before Ethan’s death; meanwhile, the flashback fight (which is most likely of that very fight) is triggered by a conversation about Rose’s doctor’s visit and uses language that implies a lot of their talks (and presumably arguments) about “staying positive” have to do specifically with Rose and the move.

It’s also worth keeping in mind how much of Ethan’s thoughts about Dulvey and moving past it are related to Rose. Like, yeah, I’m sure he wants Mia to heal for her own good and he’d like to heal for his own good. That’s to be expected. But whenever he talks about moving to Europe and healing from Dulvey, it’s also about doing it for Rose and for her benefit (“so we can live our lives with Rose without it hanging over our heads” in the diary, “We moved here so that she wouldn’t have to deal with any of that” in the argument with “Mia” at the start). Additionally, in the flashback he says, “[Rose]’s going to be fine, I just know it. What else matters?” Rose is Ethan’s #1 priority and much of his concern is focused on her.

But—and this is the important thing here—not all of Mia’s is. The end of the game reveals that Mia knew, most likely as a result of her pregnancy with Rose, that Ethan was a megamycete hybrid. In the flashback fight, she says, “I keep telling you, it’s not Rose that I’m worried about”, and the one moment when she truly explodes on him is after he implies that the only thing that matters is Rose’s safety. “We matter, Ethan! YOU matter! You just won’t-” Her exact words. We never find out what the won’t is, but I have a feeling what she’s getting at is that Ethan is unwilling to look past his worries about Rose and always circles the argument back to her. Now, we don’t see this directly, as we’re only privy to one real argument of theirs (Miranda being bitchy doesn’t count), but there’s past evidence to suggest this was probably the case.

The thing about Ethan is that he can be single-minded in his protective instinct, and we’ve known this since the last game. There’s a little throwaway moment in Biohazard where Mia thanks Ethan for choosing to save her over Zoe. He responds “Who the hell else was I going to choose?” with like, zero hesitation, and she seems taken aback by the response. Now, of course, Mia being his choice makes sense, she’s the whole reason he came here, But Zoe did still help him out, and she is still a victim in all of this. She deserved to get out of there as much as Mia did. But Ethan chose Mia without any hesitation, would have chosen her every time, and while he did promise (and keep said promise) to help Zoe, Mia was his top priority. He lost a limb (or two, depending) and dragged himself through hell for Mia—and keep in mind, this is despite him being on some level aware of the fact that she was involved in all that mess (he POINT BLANK ASKS, “You had something to do with all of this, didn’t you?”) and after she’d behaved aggressively towards him (granted, that was while she was under mind control, but that would definitely give some people pause).

Ethan cares about other people in his life first and foremost. Ethan barely cares about himself. He focuses on saving Mia at the expense of his own safety and someone else’s, and when things start getting bad again after Dulvey, his sole focus is on how it could affect Rose. I have a feeling a big part of the reasons the disagreements happened, in addition to Mia keeping information from him, was Ethan focusing on Rose’s safety, as if it’s the only thing that they could have to be worried about, and how frustrating that must have been for the woman who has seen first hand what Ethan is like and how much trouble his intense protectiveness can get him in. (Note: this does not excuse Mia from not just like. Telling him the truth, but I have my own theories about that, so we’ll leave it at “they were both talking past each other in a big way and that wasn’t helping the marriage any” because my analysis of Mia as a character is WAY beyond the scope of this post.)

Now, you’d think, you’d think with Mia having repeatedly telegraphed that Rose isn’t the problem here, that Ethan would on some level be aware of the fact that something else is going on. But he isn’t, or at least, he isn’t aware of the right things, and Beneviento House proves it.

So, Ethan is having a hell of a bad trip based off of his own insecurities and fears: his unresolved issues with Mia and his daughter’s safety. We have established above that Ethan has completely been misreading his arguments, and with that in mind, everything that Hallucination!Mia says from the second you see her gets really interesting. Starting with:

“Rose feels different. Ethan, you have to fix her” and “That’s a kick. […] She’s so energetic, it’s crazy.” Mia most likely caught on during the pregnancy that something was different about Rose. They were already ordering medical reports, including fungal pathogen testing by the BSAA, and her health was a definite source of anxiety for Ethan (his response to reading her medical file being a relieved sigh). Mia notices something is different about Rose, probably works it out, and realizes what the wider implications are for the family. Ethan is just plain worried about his daughter’s health, assumes Mia’s worries match his own, and that assumption is reflected in both the memories that come to the surface and the words his psyche put in Mia’s mouth.

“I can’t tell Ethan anything about this”, “Everyone leaves me, even Rose. I don’t want to be alone” and “I didn’t want to keep it from you. I didn’t want to lose you again. I didn’t want to destroy this family. I love you both so much. I had to. I had to do it.” Now, I don’t think the last two are anything Mia has directly said, but they all could be Ethan’s interpretation of her recent behavior. As mentioned above, he’s already aware that she’s kept at least one secret from him, and seems to know something is going on with Rose. If Mia’s not telling me, it’s because she’s worried about both of us, and doesn’t want to break up the family.

This one is a bit of conjecture and my own personal interpretation of Mia, but you’ve come this far, so hear me out: through these hallucinations, Ethan reads the aggressive secret-keeping as an attempt to keep the family together so that Mia won’t be abandoned again. I think he’s probably at least partially correct in that assumption. However, I think it’s also partially a projection of his own desires and motivations (keeping his family together at any costs). On top of that, he’s definitely missing the fact that Mia knows something is up with him as well. Telling Ethan doesn’t just potentially mean wrecking the family; it could wreck him on a personal level, and put him in a lot of danger. So while Ethan assumes it’s just about the family, there’s a lot more on Mia’s mind. That a lot more just isn’t reflected because Ethan doesn’t know.

The final bits of audio you hear are Mia crying for Rose, then repeating to herself that everything is going to be fine. Again, we know that Mia was worried about more than Rose. Ethan doesn’t. Ethan is worried about Rose first and foremost, has misread Mia due to his singular focus and lack of vital information, and in misreading Mia has created this version of events where Rose is the one who’s really in danger. Despite Mia indicating there’s more to it, he still reads what’s going on as being Rose-centered, and the fact that Rose is now genuinely in serious danger doesn’t help with that.

At the end, when Ethan says “Mia. I’ll make things right”, he’s talking about the wrong thing. He’s saying he’ll protect Rose, he’ll save her, he’ll keep her safe in a way he hadn’t been able to with Mia.

What he’s missing is the fact that, while he might’ve been just worried about Rose, Mia never was. That’s one part he can’t make right. Mia would’ve had to; she just never got the chance.

(Sidebar no one asked for, but I personally think she would have, either of her own accord or because the BSAA fungal reports (which seem to be the test results the doctor wanted to talk to them about if I’m understanding the timeline right) would’ve blown the whole thing wide open for her. It was basically inevitable. Doesn’t excuse all the secret keeping up until that point, but I like to think she would’ve come clean. Freaking MIRANDA JUST HAD TO GO AND RUIN IT THOUGH - )

#resident evil #resident evil village #ethan winters #mia winters #if you read all of this you're an MVP for real #fandom meta

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gxnshxnxmpxct · 3 years

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happy birthday :]

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You were stirred from your slumber by strong arms wrapping around you and hugging you tightly, a warm weight resting on your shoulder,

“Good morning, darling” he whispered in your ear, you hummed in response which made him chuckle lightly, “happy birthday”

Seeing you not stirring completely awake, he pressed a kiss to your cheek and suddenly his presence was gone and you faintly heard shuffling before the careful shutting of the bedroom door. Your lips formed a small smile, feeling the warmth of the morning sunlight filter in through the bedroom windows, the light feeling of it warming your skin helping to lull you back to sleep. Getting lost in the silky feeling of the bedsheets, soft, squishy pillows making your head feel like it was floating, and the faint sound of maids working around the house giving you a heartwarming sense of peace.

What brought you out of your sleepy trance was the smell of warm, freshly made breakfast. Stirring awake once more and peeking open your eyes you saw the bright red, sleep-tousled hair of your husband approaching the bed, a tray full of your favorite breakfast items in hand. Sitting on the edge of the bed and setting the tray down far enough away that it wouldn’t tilt over, he leaned over to brush the hair from your face, smiling at the sight of your eyes tiredly looking up at him,

“Hi princess” his voice was soft, holding love and admiration for the sight before him.

“Mmm hi lulu” his hand cupped your cheek and rubbed the skin fondly, letting your face rest in his palm. “I got you some breakfast”

He helped you sit up against the pillows, bringing the tray closer and letting you look over the food. The sight of the food making you wake up more, taking a deep breath and sighing at the delicious smells,

“What would you like first, dove?” You looked over the food options, candied bacon, cheesy scrambled eggs, fresh berries, fluffy buttermilk pancakes topped with melted butter and powdered sugar, and a steaming cup of your favorite tea,

“I think I’ll start with the eggs” Diluc scooped a bite into your mouth, and proceeded to feed the rest of the breakfast to you, stealing his own bites here and there,

“So, any plans for the day?” He asked while taking another bite of pancakes and you looked at him over the rim of your cup of tea, “I don’t know, what do you have planned for me?” He chuckled, swallowing his bite, “just you wait and see, love”

After finishing breakfast and thanking him with peppered kisses all over his face, Diluc got you up and out of bed, dressed for the day, and down the stairs. Sitting on the dining table was the most gorgeous bouquet of cecillias and windwheel asters. Awing at the flowers, you walked up to feel them with your fingertips and breathe in their fresh, sweet scent,

“Diluc they’re beautiful..” he smiled, walking up beside you while adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves, “I’m glad you enjoy them, I would have gotten you silk flowers but they wouldn’t have arrived from Liyue on time for today” you turned to him and wrapped your arms around his neck in a hug, “They’re perfect, thank you” He pulled back, pressing his lips to yours in a short, sweet kiss.

You followed Diluc as he led you out into the sunny daylight, your hand secure in his. Weaving through the grapevines and occasionally greeting a winery worker that you passed as you walked the soft dirt trail, the two of you started the walk towards the city of freedom. Lightly swinging your enclosed hands back and forth between the two of you, Diluc listened to you talk about anything interesting that happened in your life recently and funny conversations you had with your friends that you thought he would enjoy, and which earned soft, quiet chuckles from the pyro user.

Reaching the gates of Mondstadt, the guards greeted the two of you as you passed. Diluc bought you another flower as you passed Flora’s shop, giving the small girl and Donna a smile and a wave, walking away hand in hand with Diluc. You swore you heard the disheartened sigh of a certain someone behind you…

The two of you spent the day wandering Mond, visiting and running into friends on the street, picking up lunch at The Good Hunter, enjoying a treat Sara added to your order, giggling as the wind blew around you near the Cathedral courtyard, making a wish with a piece of Mora in the market fountain, buying a few new cute additions to your adventure clothes and weapon accessories, and watching the sunset in Diluc’s arms. You had suggested multiple times to head to Angel’s Share to share a small snack and drink with the redhead but he always managed to find something to change the subject with. You just assumed it was him wanting to avoid work on his day off and to spend more time with you, but that just served to confuse you as he led you to the establishment once the sun had set beyond the horizon and Mondstadt lit up with lantern light.

Approaching the door of the tavern, you couldn’t hear the usual bustling noises of drunkards and bards inside, instead, it was almost eerily silent. Before you could reach for the door handle, he requested for you to shut your eyes and to squeeze them tight,

“Dilu’ what are you plann-”

“Just trust me, darling”

With his hands on your shoulders, you heard the creak of the door opening and your footsteps make the floorboards creak. You’ve never noticed the creaking of the wood unless you were here after hours when you and Diluc would be the only two people inside. Seating you on a bar stool, he made sure your eyes were still closed. Once making sure you were settled on the stool, you felt him move behind you and suddenly his breath was right next to your ear, telling you to open your eyes. Opening them slowly, you were met with the excited looks of your friends’ faces, colorful streamers, and banners decorating the tavern walls,

“Surprise!!!” Everyone cheered, confetti being thrown around you and clapping ensuing.

Being caught so off guard, you reared back, only to meet with Diluc’s chest, keeping you seated still on the stool. Looking up at him with wonder, “You planned a surprise party for me..?” His hand tapped your chin, turning you to look at a group huddled together near a table, “It was their idea, I just helped here and there” waving at your friends, you turned back to Diluc as people moved around you two to fetch drinks or to sing songs, and you pulled Diluc down to press your lips to his, “How many times must I thank you for continuously making today amazing?” pressing his forehead to yours, he smiled “As many times as you’d like” and he pressed another kiss to your lips before you heard your name being called.

Getting up and walking over to the table of party planners, you saw the familiar mix of blue, blonde, and brown hair standing around. Greeting your favorite Outrider, Captains, Travellers, and Bard you saw the gorgeously decorated cake sitting on the table in the middle of everyone, decorated with lit candles,

Venti pulled out his lyre and began strumming the notes of Happy Birthday, humming along with the tune, giving a small bow to his mini audience when he finished,

“Make a wish, make a wish!” Venti cheered, obviously overjoyed to be able to entertain the occasion. With a deep breath, you blew out the flames and your friends cheered, and you would have given anything to stay in that exact moment, surrounded with your cheering friends who set up a whole party to celebrate you and your life, your lover at your side, and a smile spread on your face. Nothing you could have done would have made today better than those who loved you already did. What a happy birthday it truly was.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

@tteokdoroki

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

#{🔥.diluc}#diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact diluc #genshin impact diluc ragnvindr #ragnvindr #genshin x reader #{gxnshxn.moots}

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regrettablewritings · 4 years

Text

Preference: Love Languages

Characters: Cassian Andor, Erik the Phantom, Poe Dameron, Bruce Wayne, & Clark Kent

Cassian Andor

How He Receives:

Cassian is a very tough nut to crack: He’s aloof, he’s driven, he has a seemingly one-track mind, and he’s definitely the least open member of the Rogue One Squad -- and that’s saying something! These traits only seem to become more evident when approaching him from a more romantically-driven angle . . . However, he’s most certainly not a glacier: Even the most glaring of Rebels has a heart, and Cassian is no exception. If one does the math, it eventually becomes apparent that the best way to warm this man up is through quality time.

Admittedly, it’s quite shocking to think this. After all, there are no tricks or double meanings to quality time. It’s exactly as it says on the tin: Drawing feelings of love and acceptance from spending time with someone you love. Be it while doing tasks together or talking or just sitting and enjoying one another’s company, quality time ultimately boils down to feeling seen and heard by just having your loved one near you. (In addition, it’s also often associated with down time, which can especially be seen as a plus in the eyes of a ranking official in a war effort.)

The idea that someone like Cassian could harness love from being around another person so often just plain puzzles you. After all, he’s not exactly known for being the most welcoming, or even the most eager for downtime. Indeed, Cassian himself may find himself in denial of seeking attention like that.

But really, as much as he may refuse to show it or even believe it, he really appreciates being shown this kind of attention. He’s more or less resigned himself to the life of a cog, helping to keep the machine of the Rebellion going by doing his part. He may not necessarily voice contentment over this, but given that he’s given so much of his life to the cause, there are few other options he sees for himself. At least, he thinks. He honestly doesn’t acknowledge to himself just how deep he does, what his wants are, who he is separate from his actions and traumas.

But by spending time with his partner, he’s given the chance to confront himself: He can talk to you and have you talk right back to him. He’s given a chance to simultaneously learn more about you and also about himself. He can feel seen, he can feel heard! Because when he gets quality time with you, he’s no longer Cassin Andor, Captain of the Rebellion, deadly sniper and veteran spy: He’s just Cassian. Cassian Jeron Andor: A man trying to do right by the future while at the same time trying to confront his past after so many years of avoiding it. More importantly, though, he’s your Cassian. Which is as far from being any old cog as one gets.

How He Gives:

Unlike his personal love language, how Cassian expresses care can actually go deeper than what its name suggests. The thing about giving gifts is that the gift need not necessarily be tangible: Sometimes it can be a gesture, an action that doesn’t qualify as an act of service, anything that could be perceived as a fundamental expression of how someone loves you. At their root, the giving and reception of gifts revolves around the idea that it is literally “the thought that counts.”

And for Cassian, you are on his mind when he decides to bequeath you with the gift of being able to defend yourself. Is it a strange gift? Absolutely. Is it advantageous? Most assuredly. Most of all, is it terribly important to Cassian that he gives you this? Beyond words.

Deep in love or slowly falling, you’re doing so in the midst of a war: One can never be too careful. And given that at any moment, the enemy could locate the base or one side of the partnership could be deployed on a dangerous mission, it’s better than have and not need the ability to knock a trooper unconscious than to need and not have the ability. Cassian has already lost so much in his life; he doesn’t have any desire to have one of his remaining loved ones added to the list.

In the event he can’t be there to protect you, he needs to know you can at least put up a fight well enough to possibly escape. So when he teaches you how to shoot or how to participate in hand to hand contact, or even teaches you how to combat Empire weaponry using items stolen from their stocks, it’s because he has you in mind. He has the image of a safe you in mind, to be more specific.

Because even if he can’t be there, he wants some trace of himself with you when you most need it. After all, the greatest gift one can receive is the gift of their partner being there for them. In Cassian’s case, if he can’t be with you physically, he’ll for damn sure make certain he’s on your mind in a way that will keep you alive.

Erik

How He Receives:

At this point, Erik’s love language could best be described as “yes.”

The man has gone throughout so much of his life lacking in various forms of all five, so it would be difficult to say at first what the best approach would be. Hell, it wouldn’t be far off to assume that regardless of what he truly felt, he would bend over to receive love however you gave it to him: He would consume every last drop as though it were the final beads of rain in the desert. However, it should be noted Erik seems to respond particularly well to words of affirmation and physical touch. Or, at least, these are the languages he appears to be most in search of.

This, of course, is unsurprising: Of all the things Erik has been denied in life, recognition of his humanity, abilities, and worth, and the kindly touch of another, are the most prominently missing. Consequently, it’s no wonder he desperately seeks someone to praise his genius. The problem, however, is that he’s become so lacking in either that his search for one or the other has more intensified natures than the average person’s.

For example, it may seem arrogant (and, to a point, it is), but considering Erik associates his worth with his talents and what he can contribute, it’s no wonder he snarks or even throws fits when he feels he’s been underappreciated. He considers himself too proud to fish for compliments, but you wouldn’t be sure what else to call it when you notice him leaning in ever so slightly, eagerness twinkling in his eyes when he asks you for your input on one of his most recent projects.

More tragically, however, is the situation regarding physical touch. Modern psychology would recognize Erik as being somewhere along the autism spectrum. For the time, however, all Erik knew was that he had a certain sensitivity to things: Sounds, some smells, heavy light, and, indeed, some sensations of touch. The aversion to touch flickered, however, much like candlelight: There would be long periods where Erik would crave the feeling of another, followed by brief moments where he couldn’t stand the idea of anything touching him and vice versa. Some days, he would feel content in his robe, one of the few things he’d escaped Persia with; other days, it, as well as any other seemingly gentle fabric, would feel scratchy or dry on his skin.

Nevertheless, Erik wanted to become familiar with the feeling of someone else. Particularly, he wanted to become familiar with the feeling you. The unfortunate nature of it all was that Erik’s touch-starved nature would sometimes collide with his touch-aversion tendencies, leaving him a frustrated (and, at their worst, trembling) mess. He, of course, chalks it up to him being overwhelmed from lack of experience, but it certainly doesn’t help anything. He’s already gone this long without so much as over one kiss to his name, most touches being through some reckless nature.

And now that he finally has in his life someone to touch him as though he were a beloved pet, to kiss him as lovers are meant to . . . It’s simply not fair! He’ll be damned more than he already has been if he lets what he perceives as fear get in the way of himself and your affections!

In his stubbornness, he tends to push forward on the craving regardless of how much it will cause him to shiver and tense: Even if it only means your pinky wrapping around his, he wants your physical company upon his own. He will brave all that he must until he can no longer bear it!

Praise him. Call him your angel. Tell him he’s brilliant. Tell him he’s good. All while hugging him, or rubbing the smoother parts of his scalp, or gently stroking a thumb on his cheek (blemished or not, he won’t force you to touch what you don’t want to). Truly, to be seen and felt in ways of affection is how people are meant to be loved, in Erik’s book.

How He Gives:

On the rare occasions he’s been accepted or tolerated in his life, it’s usually been in relation to what Erik could provide for the other party involved, romantically or not. Be it to use his skills to carry out a murder task, or to create for them gifts beyond their wildest dreams, Erik has since learned (or at least been led to believe) that one of the best ways to please someone is to provide for them.

As a result, anyone who’s caught the eye of the Phantom of the Opera need not be shocked when they find him in their services as a tutor, or pulling strings behind the scenes to help their goals be achieved within the opera house. Case in point, with Christine, he offered to teach her to sing, he tried to raise her status as an ensemble member to the prima donna of the Opera Populaire, etc. Sure, his methods were not ideal, but to Erik, these were simply acts of service and providing her intangible but nonetheless important gifts meant to help her along in life in some way, albeit with traces of his own selfishness intertwined. (Not that he may have necessarily even noticed it at first. Remember: He gave her his music; he gifted her with something very important to him that he still wanted her to have.)

While he’s since thankfully dampened down on his methods, the language he speaks to any new and special person remains: If you have caught his eye and/or heart, he wants you to know your importance to him the only way he really knows how: He wants to provide you with peeks into his little world, to express to you what he finds difficult to do in words. Erik is not inarticulate in the least, but he truly does feel his actions speak more of his soul than his words sometimes can.

So from this, be prepared to find projects of yours completed after spending night upon night struggling to keep up. Do not be alarmed when you find letters in your working station with tips or secrets that ultimately help you along the way. Cherish those days when you find small morsels of your favorite pastries (don’t question how he got them), or if he lets you be the first person to lay eyes upon his newest masterpiece. He’s doing all he can to help you, even if sometimes it must be from afar. He is, after all, your most devoted and obedient servant.

Poe Dameron

How He Receives:

Poe Dameron: the Resistance’s golden boy. Always committed, always ready to go, and always ready to lend a helping hand. It therefore stands to suggest that the devoted general deserves some help right back. After all, being a general is a tough job: He has to make tough calls, disperse troops as necessary, direct the flow of the Resistance’s counters, and so forth -- all while keeping a calm and reasonable countenance. He wants to do everyone proud, but admittedly it does take a lot out of him.

Hence why with him, acts of service can go a long way.

To the average person, this may come off as just doing chores: Helping mind his resting quarters, relaying messages as necessary, bringing him things he may need, making sure he eats and sleeps regularly enough, making sure subordinates stay on task and don’t distract him from larger responsibilities in favor of more tedious endeavors . . . This couldn’t possibly be what endears a bold and confident hero like General Dameron, right?

Actually, it is: When someone performs an act of service, they’re telling their special someone that they love and care about them enough to help take a few things off their plate. And when somebody best receives love through another’s efforts, it means they see that their own personal time and work is, in fact, appreciated! Poe feels loved and cared for when he has someone who knows that in spite of his hero status, he really is just a man: He has limits, he has his doubts sometimes in the dark. Being General Leia Organa’s successor means he has big, big shoes to fill, and even though everyone has faith in him, it’s all too easy for him to potentially put himself into overdrive and risk even his health.

When one wants to show Poe that they love and care for him, to do really is to love.

(Additionally, if you tend to BB-8′s maintenance and make sure his X-Wing is in tip top shape, it tells him that you also care about the things he values beyond his job and regular functioning. BB-8 is his best buddy, and his X-Wing is symbolic of his first love: Flying. When you respect these two pillars of Poe’s life, that’s how he knows you see him for him.)

How He Gives:

There are many great things that could be said about Poe Dameron: That he’s handsome, that he’s brave, that he’s not afraid to take a risk (though how great of a thing this might be can be debated), and so much more. But one of the most underappreciated yet blessedly wonderful things about this man is that he has just as many wonderful things to say right back! He has a natural ability to lead and instill confidence, so it is only natural that his way with words translates into his way with love: Words of affirmation is Poe’s game, and he plays it hard.

Because of how ready he is to commend another, it’s rather easy to assume that perhaps he’s just using run-of-the-mill, one-size-fits-all compliments. However, this is far from the truth: The truth is, Poe can see beauty and skill in all kinds of ways, and he’s not afraid to openly appreciate the ones whom he sees it in. As a result, everything he says is steeped in genuineness, often at the perfect time (sometimes without his target ever even knowing they needed it).

His partner, of course, is far from and beyond being an exception.

Your days are filled with constant reminders of your worth, with praises and comments prompted by him acknowledging your efforts.

You successfully run a drill known for its difficulty? He congratulates you with, “Great job!”

Your learning of a new skill, regardless of how minor it may seem to the unappreciative, is greeted with statements of how proud of you he is.

A long day of running errands for him, or helping him clean up his plate of duties is acknowledged with a tired but nevertheless warm, “Thank you, Starlight . . .”

Admittedly, it can potentially come off as a bit much. He couldn’t possibly see so much in you worth talking about, right? In actuality, he truly does: Contrary to popular presumptions, Poe isn’t nearly as arrogant as people believe him to be, and he easily recognizes how strength and bravery comes in all shapes, sizes, and wars. He can appreciate all the efforts one applies, and he wants them to appreciate themselves right back. Hence why, whether it’s over your skills or perseverance, Poe will always be there to remind you he’s in your corner, watching you with pride in his eyes.

You’re a hero in your own way, in both the Resistance and in your own life, and you deserve to know that about yourself. He sees you, he appreciates you, he loves you for all that you are, and even the bits that you’re not.

And even though it’s so easy to want to doubt him, there’s something so warm and honest about the way he looks at you when he says, “I love you” . . . You just can’t help but know it’s the truth.

Of course, it should also be noted that even once the war winds down and he no longer has drills or base errands to appreciate you over, the praises will not stop. This man has a nebula’s worth of affirmations waiting for you, in his vice, in little messages he leaves for you, in holoimages you find whenever he has to go out.

“I would never want life with anybody else,” he tells you every chance he gets. And every time, it’s accompanied with a warm smile that reaches his eyes. It’s enough warmth to fire up an entire galaxy’s worth of stars, with each one representing something about you to love, adore, and cherish. He would mark them all in a star chart if you would let him.

Bruce Wayne

How He Receives:

Bruce, Bruce, Bruce . . . How does one begin to solve an enigma like Bruce? The thing about him being the Prince of Gotham and an all around very public figure is that everyone likes to make their own assumptions about him: That he’s cold, that he’s selfish, that he’s an idiot, or that he’s, well, a slut. And certainly, the philandering playboy image he’d projected in his youth did nothing to suggest otherwise, but it should be stated upfront that Bruce is and always will be an enigma far beyond first impressions, even to ones who love him and are a part of his personal life.

Case in point, it may come as both expected and a surprise that the man's love language actually veers more in the physical touch territory. It's a bit expected because, once again, he is known for being a bit more playful with women in the public eye in the past. However, as his lover in a much more healthy and intendedly long-term relationship, you learn that, much like Bruce, it goes far deeper than that.

The thing about physical touch is that it is both a fundamental way of expressing love, while also requiring a lot of understanding between those involved in order for it to have the best turnout.

Everyone assumes that Bruce will accept any touch, so long as it comes from the hands of any pretty thing. And while it is true that lapses in judgement and moments of desperation have led to Bruce letting his guard down, the fact of the matter still stands: Not all touches are created equal. Not every spot will illicit the same response, and, surprisingly, not every applicant will either.

There have, unfortunately, been many hands seemingly placed on his shoulders or face that would start off sweet and trusting, only to turn into slaps or harsh grips, long nails digging into him in a moment of distress. Without going into too much detail, it’s sufficient to just say that these instances have consequently led to Bruce becoming increasingly on guard about who he lets touch him, causing him to become more and more touch starved than what he already was.

Getting close enough for Bruce to let down his walls was by far not an easy task. But by far, your greatest accomplishment was getting Bruce to trust you enough to know: Your caresses had no dubious intentions. He’d spent so long expecting you to turn around and prove you were using him, taking advantage of his need for another’s physical attention to get whatever you wanted. After all, that’s how it went in the past with others.

But with you . . . With you, Bruce has come to find that it’s . . . different. He’s learned that your hand is resting on his cheek to pillow his weary head, to gently scratch the scruff beginning to form after working long hours into the night after night after night. While your massages on his aching back may lead to intimacy, it doesn’t have to; and when it does, it’s accompanied not by sickeningly sweet words made to threaten to tear him down. And speaking of intimacy, you don’t use it as a tool: You use it as a means of communicating with him. You want to actually be with him, in that moment, and let him know that for every second you are bound in this way, you love and adore him for who he is.

It’s hard to imagine, but the big, strong Dark Knight often finds himself seeking your touch throughout the day. He’s good at hiding it and composing himself otherwise, of course, but that’s regularly only to a point. In private, he leans in ever so slightly, his eyes quietly begging for you to embrace him. You care about his vulnerabilties, his needs for gentle touches, and even though they sate him, he’s always left wanting more. For even though he is supposedly a man who has everything, he will always be selfish for your unselfish touches.

How He Gives:

Once again, there was almost a sense of predictability revolving around Bruce’s main manner of showing love. After all, where was the shock in a billionaire resorting to gifting his partner with material goods? Indeed, this unfortunate expectation easily led to some corruption and exploitation, but the fact of the matter stood: At its root, Bruce never meant to necessarily spoil the ones whom he tried to be with; he merely wanted to provide for them tangible happiness, things that would let them know he’d thought about them. But, of course, bad company makes for bad reception: The socialites and femme fatales that had slinked in and out of his life were all too ready and willing to milk what they could from their other half.

Any “wronged” lovers would give him the cold shoulder until it was warmed by some fancy coat or couture leather jacket; they would demand to be pacified by the crystalline beaches of some far off location that would no doubt look great on their social media; fancy bags, tickets to shows Bruce could never wrap his head around, the latest gadgets and trendy things – he was more than willing to provide them if it meant she understood and appreciated his efforts and affections.

Of course, they never really did. And, of course, this left an impression on Bruce.

He hadn’t meant to be so cynical by the time your relationship with him came to be, but suspicion had become second nature. As did his tendency to give half-hearted gifts in order to supposedly appease you. (Of course, he could have potentially tried to learn a new method of showing his care, but that is neither here nor there; gift-giving just seemed to come most naturally to him.) He didn’t necessarily mean to lump you in with the rest, of course, but none of the relationships previous had ever allowed him to think the possibility of there even being an “otherwise.”

And while you didn’t necessarily mind receiving nearly weekly parcels of dresses and jewelry and the latest tech, part of you did admittedly feel somewhat stifled by it all. And cold. But maybe this was how Bruce truly did show his love? And who were you to conduct how he did so, much less reject his offerings? And so, as a result, a wordless dance between the two of you had been initiated: Bruce would buy what he thought you wanted, and you would accept if only because you felt you needed to in order to show your acceptance of his life. It wasn’t until Bruce had given you a postcard, however, that the tide had turned.

He hadn’t thought too terribly much of the thing when he’d sent it to you from Amnesty Bay during a recon of sorts; of course, he’d been thinking of you, but as far as he knew, you were probably thinking of him bringing back something valuable. (If only the sleepy, seaside town actually had anything worth so much.) What he hadn’t expected was to see it perched on your nightstand when he returned.

“I like having it nearby me when I go to sleep,” you sheepishly admitted. “It’s small but . . . Well, you were thinking of me even when you were ‘doing your thing’ out there, and it feels really . . . nice . . .”

“Nice?” he repeated, a brow raised.

“Nice,” you confirmed, cheeks burning.

. . . Hm. He couldn’t help but note that you hadn’t fidgeted like that after he gave you the diamond tennis bracelet he’d picked up on the way back.

Smartest detective in the world, his foot: Maybe . . . There was a slight chance he’d been going about this the wrong way. And the more he tested this theory, the more that slight chance began to look even bigger: It was when he remembered things like your favorite meals, both at home and when dining out; it was when he brought home your favorite snacks after a particularly rough week; it was when he remembered dates that were important to you, or added small things to your growing collections of your choice.

Those were the moments where you felt connected to him. Those were the moments when you felt Bruce’s love for you. It was in the intangible some days, and in others, the tiny gestures that left you feeling large amounts of warmth within. Certainly, as time went on, you became more accepting of the larger objects sent your way, but it was only after Bruce genuinely applied his thoughts of you in order to guide him more properly. In the end, you didn’t need big items, big gestures, or really anything with a big price tag to appreciate him or acknowledge that he cared. All you really needed what to know he was there, ready and willing to make you as happy as you wanted to make him.

And, in a way, by relearning to give you gifts, Bruce was inadvertently gifted right back: He was reminded why giving gifts had become his go-to method. Certainly, it had started off as means to show his ability to provide, but it had long since evolved. Specifically, it had matured into something more healthy and beautiful, healed from its wounds and exploitation.

Because so long as he thought of you, there was always something around him – something he could do – that was suddenly made all the more beautiful for being associated with you.

Clark Kent

How He Receives:

Superman was a polarizing figure: For every news article recounting his amazing feats and daring rescues, there were at least three or five think pieces on his alien nature, or conspiracy podcast episodes dedicated to defining his malevolence. And while it admittedly made for a rough start in his heroing career (after all, even the weight of worry was a bit much for the world’s strongest man to properly handle), the Last Son of Krypton had thankfully since learned to stop investing so much stock into these sorts of criticisms. To a point anyway.

After all, a few words of affirmation never hurt anyone. Least of all the Man of Steel – or rather, his alter ego, Clark Kent.

Despite the fact that he had been Superman for at least three years by this point, Clark’s complex relationship with compliments and declarations give his relationship with you a bit of a bumpy start. It wasn’t that he was unfamiliar with the concept of compliments and being appreciated – he’d gotten plenty of it for his deeds. For what it was worth, in three short years, love for Superman had made an almost complete 180 from the previously dour position. But, then again, that was the problem: He knew adoration as Superman – but Clark barely knew appreciation as himself.

It was easier to accept that sort of thing when you were a public figure: All you needed to do was smile and puff out your muscular chest and speak in a clear and precise voice as blazing and bright as the sun that powered you. Simple stuff. There were plenty courses and even tutorials on how to be a public figure and how to appreciate praise. But nobody talks about how to do it when one is a supposedly sheepish, poorly-postured man of humble means, just trying to make his way in the big city. Probably because when one is such a man, not much is expected of him, much less something actually worth touching upon.

To your credit, you didn’t know this was something he needed. And to his own, he didn’t really recognize it, either. He’d spent so much of his life lately being dedicated to being Superman that he quietly began to neglect himself as a man in multiple areas of his life; why ever would he think about how he needed to receive love when he has to focus on keeping the city clean of crime? You thought he wanted you to appreciate him for such a nigh-on impossible feat! After all, not just anyone could brag that their boyfriend stopped a hostage situation, blew out a fire in a single breath, and lifted a derailed train back into an upright position, all in one afternoon! But the more and more you complimented him on such matters, the less and less you came to actually agree with your methods.

Not because you became used to and even bored with Clark’s Supermanning, but because the more you paid attention, the more you noticed that Clark, well, wasn’t beaming. You knew the difference between happy-for-the-public Supes and genuinely-happy Supes – there was a certain light missing in Clark’s eyes whenever you would congratulate him on a job well-down with a robbery or what have you.

Still, he would thank you for it, flashing you that glorious smile of his: “All in a day’s work, sweetheart!”

Even the tone with which he used wasn’t authentic to his true self.

You found yourself racking your brain as the days progressed. Maybe he was a different love language altogether? It was a bit presumptuous of you to assume this was the proper method, though, wasn’t it?

You haven’t even been meaning to think about it the moment it came to you; all you were trying to do was let Clark know how much you appreciated the meal he’d prepared. A less busy day for Superman was still plentiful for the average man Clark was trying to be; you never would have pressured him to come home and start cooking, much less a dish he’d only just recently found out about!

But that was simply how Clark was: He always went above and beyond, more than happy to take care of you whenever he could.

“Oh, wow!” you gasped between forkfuls. “You’ve really outdone yourself tonight; you really didn’t have to, Sweetie!” You glanced up just in time to see Clark’s face pinken ever so slightly.

“Oh!” he responded. “Well, you know . . . I just followed the recipe and went by intuition, that’s all . . .” And that was when you knew you were on to something. There were a million tells: The tensing, the flicker in his eyes, the clumsy smile . . . But most telling of all was his deflection: Clark never used deflection when accepting his usual bout of compliments.

But just to be certain, you carried on just a bit further. In the weeks to come, you would bring attention to the things Clark did -- specifically as Clark: You would appreciate aloud how he would do chores or bring home groceries even when he didn’t have you; you’d remind him of how handy he was around the apartment, using his farm-grown resourcefulness to fix little problems like a broken door; or, when reading over his submission for the Daily Planet, you would compliment him on his writing and thought process. And, as you’d come to expect, the same responses would follow: A split-second glimmer, a wobbly smile that carried blush, and an insistence that, “Oh, it was nothing” or “No need to mention it, it’s fine.”

In short, everything that was less Superman and more Clark. And that was how you knew you were on the right track.

While it did come with a learning curve for both parties (for you, you needed to learn what did and didn’t appeal as a Clark-specific affirmation; for Clark, he actually needed to learn that there was plenty about himself worth affirming at all), stability and a better understanding of the situation did come your way. The deflections lessened to mere extinction after a point (though the sheepishness still stayed for the most part).

Of course, there were still threats of lapsing back into disbelief on Clark’s part. After all, just because you, as Superman’s partner, had figured out his preferred way of being appreciated, didn’t mean that the rest of the world could possibly know or stop how they gave him there’s. But at the end of the day, Clark supposed that that was what made it all the more special.

At the end of the day, after all the “You’re so strong!”s and corny “What a man!”s, he could just come home and be greeted with much more personal, “Thank you for responding to my message earlier; it was very thoughtful of you!”s, or “I read your latest article; not too shabby”s. Or his absolute favorite: “You’re my hero.”

How He Gives:

There’s no point in mincing it when even complete strangers experienced how Clark showed his love for the world: Every act of heroism Clark did was an act of service to all. But where you got off on the long end of the stick was when you had to acts all to yourself. Sure, 10% of the local population could recount how Superman had saved them from a nasty fall or retrieved their poor kitty from a tree -- but how many of them could say that they had Superman helping them clip coupons so that they would be prepared for the next visit to the grocery store? Just you? You’re darn skippy!

Sure, Clark’s alter ego was in the service of all. But you had an ace up your sleeve: The intimacy and closeness of a working relationship! This meant you got the more personal acts of service; things that made you two look like a normal couple.

Clark would happily gather groceries for the household; do the dishes without complaint after you’d cooked; pick up the laundry on his way back if you hadn’t already; overall, the works! Of course, you had been very hesitant when you discovered that this was Clark’s way of displaying his love to you: He was already running himself ragged as a superhero, right? Why was he doing all these extra chores!? True, you certainly didn’t mind having some extra tasks in your day being taken care of (not everyone had the same super speed or ability to take care of a major problem in record timing, after all), but the idea of being a burden toy your already overworked boyfriend worried you. You began to seriously worry that perhaps there was something you were doing that suggested to him that this was what you wanted, and it clearly showed in your nervous expressions or uncertain eyes after the fifth time he proudly told you he’d given the entire apartment a clean sweep.

You had meant to do that, but traffic on the way home kept you busy . . .

“It’s okay,” Clark insisted, eyes earnest. “I like being able to take some worries out of the way for you. Cleaning the apartment is easy compared to what I do on a regular basis.”

You pressed your lips together, uncertain. “Yeah, but that’s just it: You have a regular basis. A very crazy one. I don’t want you to focus on all this . . . tedious stuff when I can just do that. You focus on the weird, power-y villain stuff, I focus on the mundane -- isn’t that what we agreed on? Wordlessly??”

Clark frowned. “No . . . There was never an agreement. At least, not like that. The only thing we ever agreed on was that we wanted to be together. . . . And that we liked this apartment. But I digress: We wanted to be together. And when I do things like this, it shows how much being with you means to me. I like making sure our home life is secure and clean. After all, if my girl back home is upset, then what kind of man would I be?” You were quiet, certain he was being rhetorical -- “A not very super man, that’s what.” If that smile of his weren’t so darling, you would’ve been tempted to wipe it off his face.

But you did see his point. And it did take a bit of time to get used to it. Of course, you refused to let your ability to do your share fall to the wayside: If you were able to do a chore or run errands, then you were on it! But . . . far be it from you to not appreciate your super man for the things that he did, when he could!

In the event you’d beaten him to the tasks, however, Clark would still have one last thing up his skin-tight sleeves: Physical touch.

Everyone knows this man has the strength necessary to uproot and transport an entire building. It’s enough to even cause some nervousness to the average person: How careful was he with his strength? How easy was it for him to forget himself and actually break something --or someone? Was being held by him a risk at the expense of the wellness of one’s bones? The answers were simple: He was very careful with his strength; not as easy as it had once been, but he’d long since come into his own sense of control; and not really, actually.

Who knew that the Man of Steel had a touch of kittens made out of clouds? Well, 10% of the local population, but also and especially You because whereas everyone else would experience a carry of some kind into safety, you got a carry into bed. Or the couch. Or even just his lap!

Really, the roughest Clark ever hazards with you is when a long day has left your back feeling stiff and in need of a gentle, gentle pop. He is more than happy to oblige, knowing that it’s giving you a sense of satisfactory (as well as doubling up as an act of service, or so he claims).

Clark loves cuddles, and he’s more than happy to share them with you as a reminder of just how special you are to him. After all, nobody else in the city can claim that they get to be spooned by the strongest and most sweetest man on Earth! Because out of all the people he comes into contact with on a regular basis, be it on the streets as a civilian, or in the midst of a crisis being brought down to control, you’re the one that matters most to Clark. He may be the world’s Superman, but let’s make one thing clear: He will only ever be your super man.

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shield-sheafson · 4 years

Link

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Teen Titans (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Raven/Tara Markov, past Tara Markov/Slade Wilson, Background Dick Grayson/Koriand'r Characters: Tara Markov, Raven (DCU), Donna Troy, Koriand'r (DCU), Slade Wilson Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Romance, Past Underage, Past Abuse, Flirting, Weddings, sexually charged lipstick application, Slade doesn't show up in the present timeline he's just in the flashbacks, Flashbacks Summary:

Even normal things feel like they've been ruined: it's been years, but sometimes Tara feels like she's still with Slade. As everybody prepares for Dick and Kory's wedding, all kinds of miserable feelings begin bubbling up inside of her even as she tries to have fun. To add to the stress, Raven has been acting awfully cute lately...

“Stay still,” Kory says. Tara feels the tug of the mascara wand on her lashes. She hesitantly opens one eye and is promptly poked.

“You're going to kill me,” she says.

“You'll leave a beautiful corpse,” Raven says, not looking up from her book. That's awfully insensitive for someone who'd assumed Tara was dead for six months. Even though it's been years by now, it still stings a little.

For the past couple of weeks, they've been indulging Kory. Tara thinks it's unnecessary; after all, she's not dying. She's just getting married. Despite this, they're doing everything the magazines say they should do. Kory is following them exactly, as though they're religious texts.

“If you're doing me, then I'm gonna get Raven,” Tara says. “She's not even playing.”

Raven sinks down and hides between her book. The cover is in some language Tara can't understand, and this annoys her a little.

“Don't bully her,” Donna says.

“Look, if I don't get to turn Morticia into a Barbie doll, Kory's not doing anything else to my face.”

Donna bonks Tara lightly on the head. “If you want to put makeup on someone, pick me,” she says. “Raven doesn't want to join in.”

Raven mutters something Tara can't make out. Tara shrugs, snatches the mascara brush out of Kory's hand a little too sharply, and turns to Donna. Raven makes the noise again. Donna closes her eyes politely.

Just as Tara prepares to make a cute little raccoon, Raven half-whispers, “Wait.”

“You're not saving her,” Tara says. “You won't recognize her when I'm done.”

Raven very hesitantly puts a hand on Tara's shoulder. “I want to try it,” she says. “Do-- do my face.”

“Oh-ho,” Tara says. “Now that I'm paying attention to someone else, you suddenly want me.”

Raven looks nervously to the side. “Don't be stupid,” she says. “Just draw on my face. For Kory.”

“Right,” Tara says, shifting and turning in an awkward circle to face her. She can suddenly feel Donna and Kory's gazes very heavily. “Do you want...?”

Raven still doesn't meet her eye. “Everything,” she says. Her ears are red. “Do the whole routine.”

“It's not really a routine if you're not used to it,” Tara says. “Here, turn and look at me.”

“This is your first time doing someone else's makeup?” Kory asks, leaning in curiously. “You do not usually wear any yourself.”

“That obviously zitty, huh?” Tara asks, suddenly a little embarrassed. “I used to wear more. With most cute girls, you can't even tell, right?”

“Oh, you can tell,” Donna says. “If you're looking for the right things. Here, you start with foundation. I'm not sure I've got any pale enough for Raven, though...”

“I read that you start with the eyes,” Kory says. “See, the magazine says--”

“Personal taste,” Donna interrupts.

They settle on the lightest shade. Tara pats it on gingerly, trying to avoid directly touching Raven's skin. Raven keeps her eyes closed, and her brows are furrowed in concentration.

“You don't have to look so constipated,” Tara says. Raven's ears get redder. “Eyebrows go next, right?”

“Right,” Donna says. “Raven's got really dark eyebrows though, so maybe we should just shape them instead of coloring them in.”

When Tara wore makeup, she didn't really put much effort into her brows. She went for the most dramatic things: bright blue eyeshadow, bright red lipstick, bright, bright, red, red cheeks. She usually got it done quite quickly and artlessly. She wasn't thinking that much about it. Somehow, this is a little painful.

“If we color your cheeks in maybe you'll look less dead,” Tara says. Raven's cheeks are already quite pink. Again, Tara makes an effort not to touch Raven's face, but she suspects that if she did it would be warm and smooth. Why is she thinking that?

“Don't be mean,” Donna says. Tara shakes the useless thoughts out of her head.

When they do the lipstick (it's a deep color that reminds Tara of old wine), her hands shake. She does her best to hide it, but it smudges at the corner of Raven's mouth. Inexplicably bold, Tara delicately wipes it with her thumb (it still streaks). At that moment, Raven's eyes, usually so calm, seem suddenly uncertain as they meet her own.

Tara feels a startling surge of panic and she stumbles backwards into Kory.

“What's wrong?” Donna asks, but Tara just shoves the open lipstick tube into her hand before half-running out of the room.

In the bathroom, Tara splashes cold water in her face and takes a few seconds just to breathe. She looks up into the mirror and sees her made-up face for the first time that night.

In the harsh fluorescent light of the overhead lamp, it's obvious where the cakey foundation fades into imperfect, shiny skin. The water has melted her mascara, and her lipstick doesn't look great either. Altogether, Tara doesn't really like the picture of herself all done up like that.

---

They were a present; like so many other things, they were a present. A set of mismatched, but clearly expensive, beauty items offered unceremoniously in a paper bag. Tara didn't really know how to use them. She hadn't exactly had many friendly ladies around during her formative years to teach her how. She taught herself, staring into the mirror in the gym-sized bathroom at the compound, leaning forward and sticking her tongue out as she clumsily lined her eyes.

Slade didn't mind that she was bad at it. He said it made her look more grown-up, and he didn't like it when she looked too much like a little girl. “Grown-up” felt a bit like a costume. Tara wasn't sure she really understood how to act but she did her best.

“When we get 'em,” she'd said, lipstick staining her slim cigarette. “I think we should take Raven out first. That witch scares me.”

“How would you do that?” Slade had said, not harshly, as he ran his fingers through her tangled hair.

“Probably when she's meditating,” Tara said. She paused thoughtfully. “She doesn't sleep much. She's smart, too.”

“Not as smart as you,” Slade said, and that made her smile. “She's not planning ahead.”

“I think she'll be harder to catch off-guard, though. I think she might have been hit as a kid.”

“Oh?”

“She's got that vibe, you know? Tense. She acts calm, but she's got that sad look.” Tara took a long drag of her cigarette.

“Do you feel sorry for her?” Slade asked. Was that... irritation? Suspicion?

“Of course not. 'Know your enemy' and all that shit, right?” Tara smiled. “It's gross that you'd even think that.”

He seemed to like that. Slade always liked when Tara was a little mean-- never much meaner than him, but sharp and acidic like vinegar. He liked it when she was so rotten that only he could handle her, and Tara didn't particularly mind that. She was just happy that someone was willing to put up with her mean self.

---

Tara washes her face thoroughly and is through with it.

#dc #tara markov #raven dc #slade wilson #teen titans #raeterra #me writing

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thepurplebutterflythings · 5 years

Text

Curiosity Killed The Cat (Part 3) - Gar Logan

Gif: Dxnninja on Tenor

Word Count: 1.7K

Paring: Gar Logan x (f)Reader

Summary: Gar walks Y/N home after her drop-in surprise visit.

Warnings: Mentions of Sex.

Masterlist

Tagging: @ninergirl1d reclusive-chicken-nugget

________________________________________________________________

“I should head home,” Y/N said, “Sofia must be worried.”

“Oh, right,” Gar nodded as he stood up, “can I walk you home?”

“I would like that,” Y/N nodded as Rachel smiled and rolled her eyes.

“See ya later, Gar” Rachel also got to her feet, “It was very nice to meet you, Y/N.” She chuckled as Gar poked the floor with his shoe, red stretching up his neck to his forehead as Rachel grinned wickedly. Gar Logan was whipped as hell for this Amazon chick. If Y/N knew what that was and what that meant, she’d have a cheeky smile on her face and would be teasing the life out of Gar. Rachel strolled out the room, chuckling as she did.

“So, out the door or the window?” Gar asked playfully.

“Considering that if someone saw me walking out of the door here, it’d spread around Themyscira quicker than you can blink, I’d say the window.”

“Good to know,” he smiled as he dramatically gestured to the window, “ladies first.”

Y/N cocked her head to the side in confusion at the expression. Perhaps Diana or Donna could’ve explained more about the world of man to her if she pushed them harder, but Sofia wasn’t too pleased for Y/N to hear more and more about the dangerous world that had experimented on her.

“Is this something from your world?”

“Huh?”

“Ladies first – is that from your world?”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Gar nodded.

“What does it mean?”

“It’s a chivalry thing, I guess,” he shrugged.

“Chivalry?”

“Being very polite, honest. Kind behaviour,” he explained.

“Oh,” Y/N nodded in understanding, “I like chivalry then. Amazons are very chivalry.”

“Chivalrous,” Gar corrected for her.

“Amazons are very chivalrous,” Y/N repeated with the correct grammar, smiling proudly. “You should go out the window first,” she said.

“Alright, thanks, Y/N.”

“You are very welcome,” Y/N bowed her head as Gar smiled and climbed out, offering Y/N his hand to help her steadily get through the window.

________________________________________________________________

“So, growing up on Themyscira must’ve been fun,” Gar began as they slowly strolled. They wanted to take their time, to savour the time they had left together before being forced to part ways when arriving at Y/N’s home. “Sword fighting, horse riding, and all this kickass stuff with badass warrior women.”

“I loved being raised here,” Y/N nodded, “From what Donna told me about the world of man, I am certainly lucky. I wouldn’t change my upbringing for anything. How about you, though? You mentioned you travelled with your parents – you must’ve seen some incredible things, things which I cannot even begin to imagine.”

“It’s been a pretty interesting life, I can’t lie,” Gar scratched the back of his head, “though after what happened to me, I didn’t really travel much. Until Rachel came along, I lived with Chief.”

“Chief?”

“He’s a doctor, like Epione,” he explained, “He gave me the injection which made me… well… you saw…”

“Must be a smart man this chief if he managed to come up with something like that.”

“He is,” Gar nodded.

“What was living with Chief like?”

“Restricted,” Gar said after some consideration. “He wanted to keep us safe, so me and the others there didn’t have much freedom outside the house. Though that didn’t stop me from sneaking out.”

“Something I understand,” Y/N teased, “we are very similar in that aspect, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, we are,” Gar nodded, “All these miles apart, yet the same experiences.”

“Goes to show, doesn’t it?” She chuckled, “growing up is a universal experience.”

“Did you ever get caught sneaking out?”

“Oh yes,” Y/N said, “I tried sneaking out to see if I could see you and Rachel, but I was caught halfway out the window.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, Sofia was not pleased.”

“As I could tell when we actually met and she caught us.”

“She’s protective.”

“I get it,” Gar smiled and nodded, “my friend, Rita, she was very motherly to me after I arrived at Chief’s house.

“Did she have any side effects?”

“Huh?”

“I assume she was given what you was if she lives with Chief, meaning side effects, no?”

“Rita’s a different story…”

“What is hers?”

“She was an actress,” he explained, “You know those, right?” He wanted Y/N to know that she didn’t have to pretend to know things, that he was more than happy to take the time to explain things to her.

“Yes, we have plays on Themyscira.”

“Good,” Gar nodded, “well, she was working on a project, and she was exposed to a gas, a toxic gas that altered her cellular structure - which allows her to stretch her body, but also causes it to deform. She doesn’t have good control over it, not yet at least. It’s hard for her, in more ways than one.”

“I imagine it must be hard,” Y/N nodded as she spoke softly, “It must be so difficult.”

“Rita would like you,” Gar told her.

“She would?”

“Yeah, you’re smart, funny, kind, plus you’re kickass – who doesn’t like that?”

“Perhaps if you have any time we can train together – I assume you train, I heard you are part of a team called ‘The Titans’, who fight bad guys.”

“Yeah, I train, and training with an Amazon is quite the bucket list item to cross off.”

“And quite a specific one too, may I add.”

“But one I’ll be crossing off, nonetheless,” Gar teased her right back, “if Sofia is alright with it, that is. I don’t wanna upset an Amazon.”

“Oh, well, let me tell you,” Y/N chuckled, “I would find a way for us to train together if Sofia said no. In case you haven’t been paying attention, Garfield Logan, I am not one for the rules. Anyway, Sofia is always fine with me training, and perhaps she will be eager to see me defeat someone from the world of man.”

“Hey, I may not be an Amazon warrior trained from birth to fight, but I can hold my own!” Gar said. “I managed to pin you, didn’t I?”

“At the end of the day, I was the one on top, wasn’t I?”

Gar felt himself redden at her words. He could imagine the innuendo that Jason or Larry or Cliffe would make about what Y/N had just said. The one on top. God, was he really thinking something so rude about an innocent conversation.

“Well, maybe we need a re-match,” Gar coughed, “where both of us are aware, and not you sneaking up behind me.”

“I was curious about who you were.”

“And are you satisfied?”

“Very much so,” Y/N nodded firmly as they walked, her hands behind her back, “albeit I saw more of you than I thought I would.”

“Alright, changing the topic,” Gar said awkwardly, “let’s not talk about my…”

“Genitalia?”

“Look, as long as we don’t talk about it, I’m fine with it.”

“If you are embarrassed, then maybe we even it out and you look at me nude.”

“No, that’s not it, not that I don’t want to see you nude, not that I feel entitled to see you nude. God, I’m so awkward.” Gar groaned and brushed his hair from his eyes. They stopped walking and looked at each other. “I’m sure you’re lovely nude, and it would be nice to see you naked, but I don’t want to ‘even it out’, it doesn’t bother me that you’ve seen me naked and I haven’t seen you naked. It feels a little awkward because… I like you, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and the thought of making you uncomfortable makes me uncomfortable. Still, I’m also a little uncomfortable because, in my world, you don’t really show someone your naked body unless you intend to be intimate with them.”

“Sex? You mean sex, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to have sex with me?”

“NO! Yes, hang on a minute,” Gar said, clearly overwhelmed. “You are stunning, no doubt about it, and I’m sure sex with you would be good, incredible even,” he began after taking a deep breath. “And I do like you a lot, but sex, for me at least, is all about romance, about being in love, and that takes time. It’s a bond, for when you want to be completely one with someone when you can’t imagine life without them, and you want to be with them and only them. For me, that’s it at least. If we were in love, then yes, but we aren’t so… no. Does that make sense, or did I just ramble on?”

“It made sense,” Y/N nodded and smiled, biting her lip, “and it’s very sweet.”

“Y/N, IS THAT YOU?” Sofia called as she walked out of the door of their home. “AND THE MAN?”

“JUST SEEING HER HOME SAFELY, MISS SOFIA,” Gar called back. Sofia squinted for a moment before smiling and nodded, stepping back inside to give them the privacy to say farewell for now without an audience.

“Thank you for walking me home, Gar,” Y/N smiled.

“Thanks for letting me walk you home.”

“I enjoyed our conversations.”

“Me too.”

“Shall we pick up here tomorrow? Perhaps we speak about training together then?”

“I’d like that,” Gar smiled and chuckled, “um… can I kiss your cheek?”

“Pardon? Is that a common thing in the world of man? Is it a chivalry thing?”

“No, for both of those,” Gar said shaking his head, “basically, it’s what you do when you really, really like someone.”

“Like them, how?”

“Like them like you think they’re very pretty, and smart, and funny, and kind, and you hope that you and that person could grow to like each other more.”

“And you like me like that?”

“Yeah, do you like me like that?”

“Yes, you are very funny and kind, and pretty.”

“Thanks, that’s very flattering,” Gar chuckled, not bothering to comment that commonly men were referred to as ‘handsome’, “so, can I kiss your cheek?”

“Yes, I would like that very much.”

“Good,” Gar smiled as he leaned in and softly pressed his lips, plush and gentle, against Y/N’s cheek, stroking his thumb over her other cheek. They both remained still and savoured the moment before Gar slowly sighed and pulled back. “Night, Y/N,” he murmured as he rested his forehead against Y/N’s forehead.

“Goodnight, Gar. I look forward to seeing you again.”

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flightsoffandom · 5 years

Text

Space Bound

Pairs:

None really, left vague, the characters featured alongside the reader are Bones, Scotty, and Kirk.

Summary: When you were little people visited your planet and ever since you've dreamed of traveling the stars. Your dream might just come true when a large ship lands in town.

Word Count: 3039

Notes:

I tried to keep it as gender-neutral as possible but, I couldn't find a gender-neutral term for Scotty to use in place of ‘Lad/Lassie’, so the few gendered terms for the reader are ‘Lassie’,(Bones does use ‘Darlin’ ’ once as well) If anyone knows a good replacement or would like me to repost this story taking out the few gendered pronouns just let me know. Other than that I hope you enjoy it.

I found this writing prompt @wordfather and went with it.

A:Who are you?

B:Your doctor.

A:Okay, Mr. Doctor, where’s your white coat and other... doctor things?!

B: You are aware that... it would be ‘Doctor’... and not ‘Mister Doctor’?

A: Well, sorry if I;m not articulate enough when I wake up in strange surroundings!

Growing up on a small planet was pretty boring. Having never left you didn't know any other way of life. One day when you were little there was a ship that landed, you don't remember who they were or why they were there. You only remember the amazing stories. They told about everything that was beyond the reach of the sky above you. While your people knew of space travel, it went against the religious teachings. As taboo as it was, you couldn't help but dream of traveling the stars. You couldn't believe that it was bad. Considering, many years ago your people had to have gotten to this planet by the same space crafts they refuse to use. So you did the only logical thing a rebellious kid could do. You started trying to make your own ship in secret. There were old texts that had some of the details and instructions. The planets governing body ordered the books destroyed. With the vandalized pages and the pages ruined by the weather, there wasn't much to go on. You stayed determined. Visitors very rarely came but whenever they did you would seek out the crew in private. Offering to trade whatever they needed in exchange for them helping you work on your ship. It started out as a pathetic hunk of metal and while it had progressed over the years it still wasn't much to look at. The crews never stayed long so their help was short-lived before they had to be off again. Now in your adult years, it was getting harder to believe you would ever make a craft solid enough to get off the ground. Let alone get you into space. The older you get the more your parents pressure you to marry so you could be a productive member of society. There was no way you could tell your parents what you wanted to do, so your plan so far had been to be refuse to court anyone. Another method you used to slow down the ever-looming marriage, was to be rude to anyone who tried. You hated being mean for no reason but it was the only way to drag out your time.

In a clearing surrounded by trees, sitting in the dirt you stare at the pages in front of you. Most of the words were gone but that didn't stop you from trying to figure out what it was saying. It had been more than five years since the last ship came through. You threw the book to the side and flopped back down on the ground behind you. You squeezed your eyes as tight as you could out of frustration. Putting the palms of your hands over your eyes. It helped block out the light that filtered through your eyelids. Exhausted from working on this every chance you got so even the hard ground felt soft and comforting. You drifted off for a bit. When you came back to reality you heard the sound of engines. At first, you thought it was your imagination. As your eyes focused on the sky you saw a large ship coming into land. You jump up and start running back into town, trying not to trip over your own feet. Once you made it to the edge of town you saw how big the ship was. It's disk-like shape connected to its base where two other parts stuck out it looked odd. It was the biggest ship you have ever seen. Trying to look casual, you make your way towards the ship. You wanted to get crew members to help as soon as possible. As you inch your way closer the crew finally docks and a handful of people come out of the ship. You observe them for a while. Noticing a brown-haired man in a red shirt inspecting the outside of the ship. You take a risk and assume he is the person you want to talk to. Taking a roundabout way, so nobody notices what you are doing. When you get close enough you walk up behind the man and start talking, “Hello, are you the mechanic?” The man in front of you jumps, turning around. “What dae ye think yer doin' sneakin' up on someone like that, lassie?” You stare at him for a moment, not sure why he was so startled in the first place, “Sorry?” You lower your voice as you ask him again “You're a mechanic right?” The man nods “Chief engineer, ay.” You thrilled, you smile at him. “I need your help, I can give you supplies in exchange.” Overexcited you don't wait for a response, you grab the man's arm and start leading him to your project. The man stiffens up for a bit but concedes, grumbling “Donnae need tae go an’ pull like that.” Once you get to the woods you push through the trees into the clearing. “This is it, I need help finishing it” The man strolls forward, looking over the heap of metal. “This supposed tae be a ship?” He looks back at you, concern on his face. You nod “I've been trying to do it myself but it is hard.” You grab one of the books you've been using and hand it to him. “Its missing parts of the instructions.” He looks shocked when you hand him the book. He looks at it like its a foreign object. You wrinkle your nose and look at him, starting to wonder if you asked the wrong person. Flipping through the pages he starts talking, “I havenae seen one o’ these in years, It’s all outdated, ye’d niver..." He pauses and looks from the ship to you, “This niver make it aff the ground.” You bite the inside of your cheek as you listen to him. His expression shifts to pity as he continues “An if ye managed that miracle. Ye canae survive in that thin’.” You frown at him. You feel like you are about to cry but you hold back the tears “I followed the book though… well as best as I could.” You walk over to the metal and start fiddling with some of it, trying to calm yourself down. “There has to be a way to get it to work.” You let your voice trail off. He walks over beside you “Ye did an amazin’ job given the tools ye were using, she just willnae fly.” He starts looking it over himself, moving some pieces around to inspect it as he adds. “Yer folk have the technology, sae how come ye dinnae ask them fur help?” You shake your head “We aren't allowed to use ships like this, let alone build them.” He stops, rubbing the back of his neck thinking about something. He looks over your work once more, coming to a discussion. “Well I canae guarantee anythin’ but I can speak tae the cap’n. Wi’ yer skill ye’d be a good addition tae the crew.” You perk up, “You’d take me with you on the ship?” You look up at him. He tries to give a neutral response, but you already getting excited again. In your excitement, you forget to pay attention to the items in your hands. The man tries to warn you, “Careful lassie-” Unfortunately it was too late. Before he can finish speaking you feel a painful zap and everything goes black.

The sounds around you are the first sense to come back to you. You hear a man with a deep voice talk as he moves around you. “They don't believe in using space ships, so here I was planning to retire. And then Scotty had to go and almost kill a local.” The next voice you hear you recognize. It was the man in the red shirt you from before you blacked out, he sounds nervous “I didnae dae anythin’ it was an accident.” Another man rebukes, “Bones, you know you'd never be able to sit still in a boring place like this. You love the action I bring into your life.” The first man who was apparently called Bones scoffs, “You'll get me killed far before I’m able to retire. I don't know why I even bother.” While their voices don't sound violent, the killing part made you nervous. Not knowing where you are you finally decide to open your eyes. You look around seeing the man you had already met standing in the corner, gazing down at the ground. There was was a blonde-haired man in a gold shirt, leaning casually against the wall. Finally was a dark-haired man in a blue shirt standing right beside the bed you found yourself in. Startled you leap off the bed before moving backward. You tried to create some distance between yourself and the three men but the room was small. When your back hits the wall your eyes flit between each of the men. They are all staring at you, the one in blue scowls as he speaks, “You need to get back in bed.” When you don't budge he softens his face a bit “Calm down, darlin’. You were electrocuted and you need to lie down.” He reaches out to comfort you but you slap his hand away. You glare at him “Who are you?” While the man in red looks relieved to see you awake and the man in gold looks amused by the situation as a whole. The scowl returns to the man in blue standing in front of you, “Your doctor.” The authoritarian tone in his voice causes you to look around the room again. It didn't look like any place a doctor worked on your planet, except for the medical looking bed you had been on. You don't immediately see any tools in the room. Still skeptical you challenge his claim, “Okay, Mr. Doctor, where’s your white coat and other...” You try to think but your mind is still a bit fuzzy, “doctor things?” All three men stare at you. The man in blue grabs a weird object. His annoyance eases, as he starts to look concerned. He pulls out a piece of it and starts moving it up and down in your general direction. He starts moving closer, his eyes focused on the bigger object in his hand. “You are aware that…” He looks up at you again, stopping right in front of you. “It would be ‘Doctor’...” He studies your face before moving the small object around your head. “And not ‘Mister Doctor’?” His concern seems genuine but you didn't know what he was doing. You decided to remain silent, glaring at him as he continues working. He doesn't approve of you not responding so he steps back. He crosses his arms waiting for your answer. After a few more moments of silence, you begrudgingly reply, “Well, sorry if I'm not articulate enough when I wake up in strange surroundings!” The man in blue motions to the bed, retorting. “You might not be ‘articulate’ because you have brain damage from the shock. So sit down and let me do my job.” You huff and do as he says. The man in gold snickers “Bones, you deserve an award for your bedside manner.” Bones rolls his eyes as he gets back to inspecting you, trying to ignore the other man. The man in gold walks to the end of the bed, “I’m Kirk, Captain of this ship. Your lovely doctor there is Bones.” Kirk motions to the man in red, “And it looks like you've already meet Scotty.” Scotty gives you an awkward wave. You wave back before questioning, “Is ‘Bones’ a normal name?” Bones turned to glare at Kirk and Kirk is beside himself. The two men answer at the same time. Kirk blurts out “-Yes.” While Bones grunts out “-No!” Bones turns back to you, “I’m Doctor McCoy.” You nod, looking around the room again. Dr.McCoy stops and looks at you, “You seem to be fine, had some minor burns that I already took care of while you were out.” He steps backs back and motions to the door, “Your free to return home.” You stand up, “What if I don't want to go back home?” Kirk opens the door and chuckles, “Sorry, this isn't a civilian ship.” You frown before glancing at Scotty. Scotty tries to subtly shake his head, “Lassie, now’s nae th’ time-" You ignore him turning to look at Kirk, “You said you are the Captain, yes?” Kirk nods, exchanging a look with Scotty “I am.” You cross your arms, “Well, Scot-” Scotty interrupts you, stepping between you and Kirk. “I meant tae brin’ it up. It didnae seem like th’ time when thay were possibly dyin’.” Dr.McCoy lets out an annoyed sigh, “Can you three have this argument anywhere else but my medbay?” Kirk looks at the doctor and announces, “Fine.” The three of you walk out of the room. Out of spite, Kirk takes one step past what seems to be the boundary of the medical area. Kirk turns to Scotty, “You promised her a spot on the ship?” Scotty shakes his head, holding his hands up in defense. “Nae, jist a chance.” As you stand to the side of the pair, you see the Doctor walk out of the medical room you were in. Dr. McCoy stares right at the two arguing, looking completely done with his life. McCoy puts his fingers on his temples as he walks over. “Dammit Jim, if I knew this was what you were going to do I would have told you to stay there.” Kirk tries to play innocent and shrugs, before talking to Scotty. “She electrocuted herself, are you sure she can handle herself.” Scotty nods “Ay, give ‘em the engineerin’ test an’ see hou it goes.” Dr. McCoy interjects, “If we started measuring ability by how little someone got hurt. You'd be out of a job. I've had to patch you up more than anyone else on this ship.” You turn to McCoy, surprised he sided with you. Once you see his face you can see it was to annoy Kirk. You didn't plan on complaining because you wanted at least a chance to be on a ship. Wanting to plead your case, you try to cut through the tension. “If you'll just let me take this test, thing, he is talking about. I only want a chance. If I fail then I'll leave you alone and go back home.” Kirk looks from you to Scotty and then back again. “Fine, but either way you need to tell your people we aren't kidnapping you. They've been pounding on the hull ever since we brought you here for treatment.” You nod enthusiastic, “Of course.” Scotty lets out a sigh of relief before turning to you “Follaw me.” You do as he says and follow Scotty. You here Kirk and Dr.McCoy talking as you walk away. McCoy speaks up first, “You sure about this?” Kirk shrugs, “I mean I've had worse ideas.” McCoy sighed and shook his head. “That doesn't say much considering almost everything you do is idiotic.” The last thing you hear is Kirk laughing as you get out of earshot.

The test was hard. You knew enough to get yourself close to the results they wanted but you usually missed a few parts. Yet Scotty helped you, which you had a feeling he really wasn't supposed to be doing. He didn't have to help you much though luckily. Once the test finished they sent you to go talk to your people and family. Walking off the ship was one of the most nerve-wracking things you've ever done. You saw the crowd of people right away. Their anger turned to relief when they saw you. It didn't last long. Once you told your parents what was going on the relief transformed into disappointment. The rest of the town shunned you and dispersed, leaving you to console your parents. They were far from happy. You hated seeing them like this but you knew deep down in your heart you would never be happy trapped on the ground. You tried to explain it to your parents but they didn't seem to understand. They hoped for your safety before retreating back into town with everyone else. You sighed and made you way back onto the ship. Having, even more, riding on being accepted onto this ship had your stomach in knots. You waited in a room onboard all by yourself. It felt like years were passing as you were getting sucked into your own thoughts. When the door finally opened your heart leaped out of your chest. Kirk, Scotty, and McCoy are all standing outside but Kirk is the only one to step into the room. You crept forward. Afraid to be the first to say anything you wait for him to speak. Kirk smiles and hands you a pile of clothes, “Here, Once you put it on meet us outside. We have some things to go over.” You nod and Kirk exits the room the doors closing behind him. You look down at the clothes in your hands, noticing the shirt is red like Scotty’s. Pulling on the clothes they feel pretty comfortable for a uniform. As you step out of the room, you tug at the bottom of your shirt. You greet the three men as you step out, “Hello.” McCoy talks first, “You'll have to stop by medical again so we get a medical record started for you.” While the doctor's tone came off as harsh. The more you heard him speak you realized that there was no ill will in his intentions. Scotty adds to that, “Then ye can come doun tae engineerin’ an’ start workin’.” Scotty looks almost as excited as you feel and you can't help but smile. Kirk starts leading the group down the hall as he talks about the ship and other things. McCoy elbows the Captain. Kirk looks at the doctor and then back at you, “Ohh right. We never ask before.” Kirk reaches out his hand and you take it before he adds. “Welcome aboard the USS Enterprise, What’s your name?”

#star trek #star trek aos #reader insert #fanfiction #leonard mccoy #montgomery scott #james kirk #one-shot #star trek fanfiction #fanfic

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 5 years

Text

Queen of Hearts - Chapter 12

Thirty-year-old Rose Tyler’s matchmaking business is doing very well indeed, bringing her clients such as celebrities, athletes, and the now-happily-married son of the mayor. All of which brings her to her newest client - one whose royal rank is a far cry above her own title as Queen of Hearts.

Ian, King of Gallifrey, calls off his wedding four weeks before the happy day as he realizes he can’t spend another minute of his life with his betrothed. The catch - he must take a wife before his Coronation, only a month away. In desperation, his sister and aunt conspire to find him is happy ever after - and it’s going to take a master matchmaker to do it.

Based on the Hallmark Movie ‘Royal Matchmaker’. Chapters will be posted every Sunday.

As always, beta’d by the wonderful @stupidsatsuma! @doctorroseprompts

Masterlist | AO3

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Friday, April 19th

The next morning found Ian slumped in his desk chair, back to the door as he stared out the windows. The glass went from floor to ceiling, wall to wall, providing the best view possible of the lake and Alps behind it. When the conditions were right, he could see straight across to the Swiss village that occupied the far shore.

Today, though, the sky was as opaque and threatening as his mood, dark clouds promising storms by day's end.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t turn to look at the sound of his sister’s voice, trusting she would enter and bend his ear regardless. “Why do you assume something’s wrong?”

“Because it’s eleven in the morning and no one’s seen you. Sarah said Rose was at breakfast in the kitchens for the first time. So, tell me. What’s wrong?”

Donna came around the desk to crouch in front of him, steadying herself with a palm on his knee and staring up at him with the most sympathetic look possible.

Wiping his hand down his face, he sighed heavily, trying to subtly hide the bottle of scotch he held before she spotted it. “She’s engaged.”

“What? That’s ridiculous – why show up then? All she had to say was ‘no thanks, already engaged, not interested, but thanks anyway’. Why show and waste our time, then?”

Ian stared at her blankly, and she matched his expression, until it melted back to its previous level of sympathy.

“You’re not talking about Reinette.”

He slowly shook his head.

“You don’t want to marry Reinette.”

Another shake.

“You want Rose.”

This time, a tentative nod.

“And she’s engaged? She doesn’t wear a ring… I thought she was unattached?”

“So did I,” he sighed, sinking further in his chair and turning his attention out the window to a bird circling above the lake. “But last night, when I was coming back from dinner, I found her on the patio. She didn’t see me, but she was on her mobile, talking to a bloke, saying they’d start planning the wedding when she got back.”

“Maybe-”

“She said she loved him,” he cut Donna off, grimacing when her face twisted in sympathy.

“I’m sorry.”

Ian nodded sharply, crossing his arms. “It’s fine,” he lied, “I’ll… I’ll marry Reinette, and we’ll produce an heir, and you can go back to being the ‘spare’.”

“Have you considered asking Rose about it?” she asked carefully, standing. “Maybe it’s not how it seemed? Maybe you misunderstood.”

“It’s not the kind of thing you misunderstand.” He smiled wistfully, picturing Rose in his mother’s coronation regalia, or her favorite tiara. She would make a wonderful queen. “Think nothing of it, and don’t even consider trying to do something about it. I expressly forbid it.”

“All right,” Donna agreed easily enough, smirking when his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Whatever you say, Your Majesty. But might I recommend a shower? You reek of that scotch you’re trying to hide.”

And she swept out of the room, leaving him alone.

Damn her, he thought, more sad than angry. Why must she see right through me?

Sunday, April 21st

After introducing Reinette to the King, Rose saw neither for days as she was utterly abandoned. No meal invitations, she never saw him in the halls. With nothing to do she was free to roam to her heart’s content, waiting on word that never came.

Friday and Saturday passed unremarkably, and Sunday was headed that way as well when Princess Donna knocked on the door around three in the afternoon.

“Come in,” Rose called, looking up from the Gallifrey-specific version of Monopoly they’d found in the game room.

“Yes, please come and save me,” Mel muttered, scowling down at the board – for all her bubbly personality, the redhead was a sore loser, and a loser she would soon be if she landed on one more hotel.

Princess Donna stepped into the room, and they both stood and curtseyed to her.

“Rose, I was hoping perhaps you could assist me?” she asked, and Rose’s eyes lit up.

“Of course Your Highness, how?” Ditching the blanket she was using as a shaw, she shoved her feet back into her heels and stepped closer.

Leaving Mel behind they stepped out into the hall, the Princess leading her away from the direction of the King’s suite, making Rose’s hopes fall.

“The King has decided to propose to Reinette,” the redhead said bluntly, as they headed into a section of the Palace Rose had never seen. “He’s tasked me with picking a ring for her. Given that you likely know her best from your thorough vetting processes, I thought you might be able to guide me.”

“Oh,” Rose said softly, heart sinking like a stone. “Of course.”

Within two minutes they reached the basement, continuing on through several storage rooms until they came upon a guarded vault.

“Good afternoon Anthony,” the Princess said warmly to the soldier on the right, “I need to remove something from the Archive.”

“Certainly, Your Highness,” he bowed, “I’d be happy to get it for you. What is it?”

The Princess shook her head. “A ring, but I’m not sure which one yet. Miss Tyler here is to help me choose.”

They had to sign a book to get into the room, Princess Donna muttering, “This is where we keep all the Crown Jewels, Coronation Regalia, and the like. Copies of some things are kept in the Museum in town, but all the real items are kept here. In any case of emergency, this is the place to be. It’s the most secure spot in the kingdom.”

She led her down rows filled with gorgeous, priceless items, mostly various types of jewelry. Crowns and tiaras, scepters and swords, necklaces, earrings, medals, broaches, one twinkling item after another, dozens of each, hundreds, each more spectacular than the last until they finally reached a cabinet a jeweler could only dream of. Several hundred rings must have sat in the combination-locked case, covered in diamonds and gemstones. Rubies, emeralds, sapphires, tanzanite, diamonds of every color, all sparkling in the overhead lighting.

“This is amazing,” Rose said softly. “Does this all get used?”

“Most of it,” the Princess said, undoing the lock. “Over time, at least. I try to wear something different on every State occasion, within my taste and size. We keep a log of when and by whom everything is worn, and sometimes I’ll pick what hasn’t been seen in the longest time and base my outfit around that, just to keep it in circulation. Does no good being kept hidden down here.”

Rose tentatively ran a hand over the top of the case, staring down at rings. “You’re very lucky,” she said softly. The Jewel House at the Tower of London’s got nothing on this.

“I know.” Then the Princess stepped back. “Take a look, try some on if you like. Have fun. But keep in mind, they do an inventory after every time someone enters the Archive, so we’ll know if you pocket something.”

Rose’s head snapped up, horrified, only to find a teasing smirk on the Princess’s face. “Oh very funny,” she muttered, before going pink. “Sorry.”

Trying to decide where to start, she asked, “How are these organized?”

“Ring size, metal, type of stone. Reinette’s a size six,” she pointed to a section a third of the way down from the left wall, “but I’ll leave the rest to your discretion.”

If she weren’t heartbroken at the thought of picking a ring for the man she loved to give to another woman, Rose would be having the time of her life sorting through the rings. Reinette had a clear preference for gold jewelry based on her Instagram posts, and Rose started there.

The problem, she quickly realized, was that she had no idea what Reinette would prefer. Something gaudy? Something understated? Traditional diamond or a different stone? What cut?

A second problem, one she refused to acknowledge, was how much she wanted to be picking a ring for herself.

Finally choosing one slightly at random, she held it out towards the Princess. “This one, I think. Sorry, I match people to people, not jewelry.”

“She can always choose something else,” the other woman shrugged, sliding it on her pinky for safe keeping. “I expected we’d be down here longer, so if you wanted to play around with them…”

“Really?” Despite her heartbreak, Rose lit up. “These are all so gorgeous…”

“Go ahead,” the Princess grinned. “Have fun.”

Humming to herself, Rose abandoned the gold section for the white gold. “God these are stunning.”

“Which would you choose for yourself? If you were getting married, I mean?” Princess Donna asked, leaning on the cabinet nearby and watching her try rings on.

“Me?” Rose held her hand up to the light, admiring the sparkle on a diamond the size of her eye. “Probably not a diamond – or at least, not white. Maybe something pink, or blue. White gold.” She tried on another, this time an emerald. “I’m not sure.”

Then, she spotted it. “Oh,” she said, very softly, reaching a trembling hand into the case and plucking the ring out. “Oh my.” Tears pricked at her eyes, even as her heart ached. “Oh, if I could… This would be it.”

Sliding it on her finger, she turned towards the Princess to show her, who gasped softly as well.

“It suits you.”

Rose nodded, staring down at her finger. The band was white gold, the top half cut out into a celtic lover’s knot. A large, bright princess-cut sapphire sparkled from the center, surrounded by tiny white diamonds. It was elegant and clean, the stone large enough for a royal bride but not heavy enough to break her finger.

It was perfection.

But the only man who could give it to her, who she would want to give it to her, was giving a different ring to a different woman. One she herself had just picked.

“We should get back.” Rose yanked the ring off her finger and set it back in its spot, turning her back on the case and stepping away. “Thank you for- well.”

“Of course.” The Princess locked the case again, and they made their way back to the vault entrance, stepping out to where the soldiers still stood, both snapping to attention at the sight of their Princess. “Shoot! I forgot to pick a tiara to go with it,” she snapped her fingers. “Can you find your own way back?”

Rose nodded, wrinkling her nose. “D’you need any-”

“No, I’m good, thanks. See you later!” And the Princess disappeared back inside the vault, leaving Rose standing awkwardly with the guards, who stared at her impassively.

Clearing her throat, Rose pointed towards the stairs. “I’ll just be going, won’t I?”

Turning on her heel, she walked up the flight sedately – then ran back to the suite, trying desperately to hold back the tears until she reached the safety of her bed.

Monday, April 22nd

He spent the next three days courting Reinette at every turn, doing his best to charm her as he made preparations to propose.

She wasn’t his first choice by any means, but she was the best he had, and since he’d sent all the others away, really his only option. Abdicating, as appealing as the idea was, wasn’t feasible – besides, it wouldn’t look good for Donna’s first act as Queen to be throwing him in the dungeon and having him executed.

If nothing else, his niece and nephew would cry and miss him – he hoped.

So, out of time, options, and the will to keep fighting the inevitable, he put his best foot forward. He took her into Geneva for the Opera, some horrible thing all in Italian he detested and she adored. Sarah arranged for them to go into the Gallifreyan History Museum afterhours to wander through the exhibits, and he told her some of his country’s origins and legends. They went horseback riding and picnicking, taking a horse-drawn carriage along the border road that ran along the boundary between Gallifrey, France, and in a few spots, Switzerland.

Conversation came fairly easily, and he found they had a great many things in common, including views on policy and politics.

She was just as Rose had promised – technically perfect, with one glaringly obvious fault.

She wasn’t Rose.

Well, and that she was French. Okay, two faults.

He could learn to live with her nationality, given that they shared a border and her language was the country’s second official, after English and even before Gallifreyan.

If only he could forget about Rose, then everything would be almost perfect.

He’d tasked Donna with picking a ring from the Archives, reasonably certain that if he thought too hard about any of this, he would run for the hills and never return, or fake his own death, or something equally dramatic to get away from it all.

The box it sat in burned in his pocket as they walked along the lakeshore. His heart was pounding, breath catching, stomach rioting – and not in the happy way Rose promised.

Rose.

He stopped dead at the thought, his heart quietly breaking as considered what he’d been trying to make himself do since they reached the shore.

“Your Majesty? Is something wrong?” Reinette asked, turning back to where he was frozen. Genuine concern colored her tone, but he could barely hear her through the rushing in his ears.

Yes – you’re not who I want. What do I do? What do I say?

In the end, he had no choice. Unable to make his knee bend, he merely fished the box out of his pocket and held it towards her, trembling. “Will you marry me?”

She didn’t immediately respond, eyes darting between himself and the box, and when she finally met his gaze, a softness rested there he didn’t appreciate. “Are you sure? That I’m the one you want?”

“Yes,” he choked out, unable to say anything more.

After a moment she nodded, sighing softly. “Then, yes. Yes, I will marry you.”

It wasn’t anything like the movies, or like he might have, on very rare occasions, pictured. No crying, no kissing, no declarations of love. He slid the ring on her finger, kissed her knuckles, and they turned back towards the palace.

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, indeed.

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #ficandchips #Doctor Who #12xRose #12th Doctor #Rose Tyler #AU #Queen of Hearts #royalty AU

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banshee1013 · 5 years

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How To Train Your Hunter(s)

Well, here it is, finally - the continuation to the Looking Glass series, in which I and my friends formulate a plan to convince the Winchesters to allow us to help them defeat God and save their world.

This one ended up being a BEAST, so I’ve split it into three parts. This is Part The First.

Enjoy!

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"OK, ladies… this is it. Are you ready?"

Speaking directly into my computer's microphone, to the Discord voice channel set up for this purpose.

Things this complex require voice communication, and being scattered over the country (and South Africa for Mags), long-distance charges would have been a nightmare.

Thank the stars for Discord.

A nervous titter from Cori over the channel.

"I think I'm ready… I'm so excited I can barely breathe!"

Mags: "I was born ready…"

Ella: "As ready as I'm gonna be…"

I felt a flutter of nerves in my gut, a moment of doubt. Not in my friends - I knew they were ready - but in me.

Could I keep them safe?

And just how quickly - or worse, slowly - will Dean kill me for this?

*******************************************************************************************

I hadn't told anyone else about the Looking Glass - not until I had, with Sam and Cas' help, performed many more experiments.

Bringing something other than myself through - weapons (my sword, a machete) and even one of my cats - CHECK. This was good news - it meant I could defend myself over there, and other living things could pass through as well.

Bringing something from the "Mirror Universe" or MU as I jokingly referred to it (shoutout to my Star Trek nerd roots) - other weapons (returned before Dean noticed), a stray cat hanging around the Bunker (using gloves as to not shock the poor thing). CHECK (although I now have another feline mouth to feed…).

Jack will be pleased. This was Step One toward the Disneyland trip.

I still zapped everyone I touched over there - well, by *everyone* I mean Sam, Dean, Jack, and Cas because I obviously hadn't interacted with anyone else - how do you explain to a stranger you're from another universe? But as suspected, the effect didn't happen at home. The Grace was dormant here.

And then, like a dummy - I slipped.

Mags was the one that caught it - an innocent comment between Dean and me regarding a pool game - how he cheated by distracting me (he may be like a brother to me, but still - DISTRACTING when he focuses his efforts on it). Thankfully pulling me into a DM rather than confronting me in public, she pried at me. I tried to play it off as one of our usual GIF games, but she was having none of it.

So I came clean. And of course, I then had to explain it - impossible over text alone.

That's when I set up the Discord channel and turned on the voice feature. Once I explained the process, Mags was completely on-board with going over herself.

"You know they need our help. They're fighting GOD, for Go… for shit's sake."

"Mags, we have NO training. Have you *ever* used a machete?”

"No, but I can learn," she asserted. "You learned how to fight with a sword, didn't you?"

Well, she had me there.

"OK. Let me do some… creative questioning of Sam. Come up with a training plan or whatever."

"That sounds reasonable," she agreed, followed by a pregnant pause. "But we have to get Cori and Ella in on this action. Remember 'Dean's Angels'?"

I groaned, eyes trailing skyward. "That was a joke!"

"Was it though?" she countered, the mirth plain in her voice, before sobering. "C'mon. The more, the merrier, right? Besides, they would be so pissed if we went without them."

She had a point. And training for two could easily be expanded into training for four.

I invited Cori and Ella to the Discord channel and caught them up.

To no one's surprise, they were gung-ho on the idea.

****************************************

The following Saturday, I paid a visit to the Bunker and surreptitiously questioned Sam on the nature of decapitating vampires and other monsters.

He probably would have thought I was nuts if he hadn't been distracted by his research trying to find Donatello.

Finding Donatello was important to me as well, so I limited the questioning to times when I could coerce Sam into taking a break, tempting him with sandwiches and smoothies.

I sat at the kitchen table across from Sam during one of these breaks as he sampled the smoothie, sliding the plate with the sandwich across to him.

"So y'know, I was wondering - how much pressure would you say you have to exert to chop off a vamp's head?"

Sam paused mid-slurp and gave me a puzzled look. "Uh, I dunno, really - I never stopped to think about it…"

"Well, would you say it's more like - chopping through a cabbage, or chopping through a pumpkin?"

Ever the intellectual, he seriously contemplated the question. "I would say at least a pumpkin, a big one." Picking up the sandwich, he took a bite and considered the question more while chewing. Swallowing, he added, "But really, probably more like a ham. A good, 15lb bone-in ham."

"Did someone say 'ham'?" Dean inquired, on a break from the Star Wars marathon in the Dean Cave with Jack, popping into the kitchen to fetch another beer and a soda for Jack.

The next day, I brought through a 15lb ham and cooked it up for dinner - one of two I had purchased.

Theirs was to distract them from yesterday's discussion - and because Dean looked so crestfallen when no ham was on offer. They had ham sandwiches, and ham and cheese omelets, and ham and potatoes au gratin for a good week after.

The other, of course, was for me to chop with a machete.

After trying it and finding it suitably difficult, I recommended the idea to the others.

***************************************

We studied fight techniques.

I filmed my sword training classes for the "classical" techniques - entering the fight, counters to attacks, and grappling.

Cori found some excellent videos on actual machete fighting.

And we all studied every Monster of the Week episode of The Show, breaking down Sam, Dean, and Cas' knife-fighting skills and techniques. Ella became a master at the ‘Angel Blade Flip', using a Bowie knife borrowed from a friend.

We all ended up eating a lot of ham, and when we got sick of it, the local shelters reaped the benefit.

We were always sure to carefully clean our blades before and after every training session, both for the protection of the blade and to keep the ham clean enough for eating, and would lay down fresh tarp to catch the falling pieces.

If anyone at the shelters wondered about the nature of the donations - thick, somewhat uneven slices of bone-in ham - it was never voiced out loud.

Gift horses (pigs?), I suppose.

**************************************

We also studied basic first aid and field medicine.

Mags worked at a hospital and became our go-to for all things medical. She was able to convince one of the ER docs and several of his patients to allow her to film suturing and wound treatment. "Research for a book" she claimed, promising credit and mentions in said book.

Yeah, she'll write that. Some day.

The ham suffered more abuse as we gashed into them to practice sewing them back up with dental floss.

Unscented. I didn't want to find out if the mint stuff burned on contact.

Cori gathered the necessary items and packaged small medical kits for us.

*************************************

"We're almost ready, ladies," I said to the others in the Discord voice channel.

We had been training for a couple of months, and sliced many hams.

We felt ready for the next step.

"Just gotta find the right case for us."

"So I assume Plan A was a bust, then?" Mags sighed.

"Yeah, well we kinda knew it would be, didn't we?" I said, resigned.

'Plan A' was to film our training and present it to Sam and Dean as proof of our prowess and ability to protect ourselves, in order to gain their trust and allow us to accompany them on a hunt.

I didn't tell the girls this - but I never had high confidence in Plan A. Sam could possibly be reasoned with, but Dean?

Not with that mile-wide protective streak of his.

So I worked on 'Plan B' - finding a vamp nest for us to tackle on our own.

To do so, I would go through the Looking Glass to past hunt locations in the MU.

I figured a done deed would be far more convincing of our abilities than videos of murdered ham.

For research, I once again turned to the 'tale of the tape' - The Show.

One of the "benefits" (for lack of a better word) of Chuck's little Greatest Hits Tour - reviewing the Show, and following the boy's hunts on Twitter, I had a decent idea of all their cases from the past and which of those past cases had been resurrected and already dealt with. With this knowledge, I believed I could find something suitable.

I knew, however, that scouting locations was a not going to be an easy task. Remember that Grace? It was a beacon to Cas and Jack every time I set foot in the MU.

So, I took Jack into my confidence. Sorta.

I didn't tell him the exact reason *why* I needed him to ignore my visits and keep Cas from noticing. I told him I was working on a surprise for Sam, Dean, and Cas, and asked for his help.

It wasn't *really* a lie.

This would certainly be a surprise.

For the first experiment, I picked a place well-documented on The Show but with no known monster visitations - Donna's cabin.

I researched the location, gathering information on temperature, sounds, and smells. Google Earth was my friend.

I paused the scene to study the cabin and surrounding area, memorizing visual cues. Studied the ground cover to determine what it would feel like as I stepped on it.

I wasn't planning on being there long - just long enough to verify I was in the right place.

I figured I wouldn't be there long enough for Jack or Cas to detect my presence through the Grace, so I didn't tell him.

I stood in front of the doorway of my spare bedroom and focused.

Closing my eyes, I envisioned every detail. Every sight, sound, feeling.

I stepped through the doorway - and my feet crunched on the leaves scattered on the ground outside what definitely appeared to be Donna's cabin.

My time was limited so I confirmed the location in the quickest way possible - I searched for, and found, the garden gnome with the key hidden underneath, exactly as she had described in the episode.

I couldn't stop the giddy feeling bubbling up in my chest.

Step 1 of Plan B was a success.

************************************

Over the next week, I watched every vampire episode, looking for one small enough for us to handle but big enough to be, well, impressive. Challenging.

I considered Alex's old nest - but there were only three of them. Mags could probably wipe out the nest all by herself.

I thought about Benny's old nest - but didn't want to run the risk of running into Benny. Chuck would be asshole enough to bring him back if just to torment Dean.

I went all the way back to the first season and found what could be the perfect case - Luther's nest, the first case the boys worked after the return of their father, John. The nest only consisted of about 10 vampires - just over two each. Doable.

That is, if Chuck had returned them. I had to perform some reconnaissance to see.

To do this, I needed to be there much longer than I was at Donna's cabin.

I was going to need Jack's help for this one.

I opened Twitter and a DM to Jack.

*************************************

@redbanshee: Hey Jack, are you there?

@IAmCalledJack: Hello! Were you at Donna's cabin last week? I thought I felt Castiel's Grace there but he was right here in the Bunker with me.

Oh shit. I guess even the few minutes I was there was enough to trigger the alarm…

@redbanshee: Uh, yeah… part of the surprise for Sam, Dean, and Cas - I needed something from her cabin.

@redbanshee: Did, uh, Cas notice?

@IAmCalledJack: Yes, but he figured he must be mistaken because it only appeared for a few minutes.

Whew… dodged that bullet. I wouldn't get that lucky this time, though.

@redbanshee: So, Jack, I need to go somewhere else today to get something else for their surprise - do you think you could distract Cas or something so he doesn't notice? I really don't want to spoil the surprise…

@IAmCalledJack: Yes, I am happy to help. I can actually block him from noticing you're here.

@redbanshee: Oh, that's very helpful! Thank you!

@redbanshee: I should be less than an hour, can you block him for that long?

@IAmCalledJack: Yes, I believe so.

@IAmCalledJack: Are you sure you'll be safe? You're not going anywhere dangerous, are you?

@redbanshee: No, of course not! Perfectly mundane. :)

@IAmCalledJack: OK :) But you'll pray to me if you get into trouble?

@redbanshee: Of course I will, sweetie. But I promise, I'll be just fine.

I closed the DM and tried not to feel awful about it.

**************************************

I stepped through the doorway into a copse of trees overlooking the barn housing Luther's nest.

Or at least what I hoped was still - again - their nest.

It was late afternoon San Diego time, but just sliding into dusk in Colorado. Unlike what the myths would have you believe, vampires are capable of moving about in the day - it's just painful for them, so they don't unless they have to. I'll have a much better chance of seeing them after the sun goes down.

Taking out a pair of binoculars, I scanned the grounds. Nothing yet, so I waited.

I didn't have to wait long. In the gathering gloom of dusk, the barn door opened and three figures emerged. A dim glow from inside the barn backlit several more inside, including a couple still asleep in hammocks.

It was fairly obvious the nest had returned.

I felt the grin spreading across my face. We had our case.

But I had to be sure.

I followed the three figures to a small bar about a mile down the road from the barn.

Followed them inside and picked a table in a dark corner to observe.

Watched as one, a female, singled out a loner sitting at the bar, sidled up to him to whisper in his ear.

Watched as he flushed, a tentative tongue flicking to lick lips gone suddenly dry.

Watched as the eyes glazed over, and followed her as she led him out the back door of the bar.

I knew the hour I told Jack was almost up - I needed to get back in case he couldn’t block Cas for longer than that.

But I needed to *know* if these were really vampires. Could be just a commune, or a bunch of grifters.

I needed to make sure.

I waited a few minutes, took a deep breath, then followed them out the back door.

And got there just in time to see the vamp drop the mark to the ground, drained. She turned toward me and hissed, blood dripping from ruby lips.

I froze, shocked and sickened.

Then jumped as a growling voice echoed from behind me.

"Looking for something?"

My breath stopped in my throat. I had no weapons.

I. HAD. NO. WEAPONS.

I closed my eyes and forced down the panic. Turned to face the voice behind me.

"Uh, nope. Just came out for some air, y'know… I'll just be getting back inside, my friend is waiting for me… "

Steps echoing in the alley behind me as the female vampire approached, blocking that exit.

I sidestepped to move around him and dash for the back door of the bar, but he stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

He smiled a toothy grin.

A second set of very pointy teeth descended over the first.

OK, then. No more proof necessary.

Now I just had to live long enough to bring the girls back and handle it.

"Sorry, sis. Your friend is just gonna have to wait…" he smirked, reaching for me with lightning speed and grasping my arms just above the elbow.

On the bare skin just below the edge of my t-shirt sleeves.

A blue-white flash of static discharge flared from the touch and sent the vampire sprawling.

I leaped over him and headed for the back door at a dead run.

Envisioning carpet under my feet, the hue of the overhead LED lights…

I plunged through the back doorway of the bar, and yelped as I stumbled and fell face-first… onto the carpet in my spare bedroom.

I flipped and scrambled backward away from the doorway of the bedroom, waiting…

Wondering if something would follow me back through.

Scrambled until my back slammed against the wall, and I pulled my knees to my chest, breaths coming in wheezing gasps.

The doorway remained empty.

I was safe.

And I had found our case.

*******************************************************************************************

"OK ladies, let's go over the plan one more time…"

I could hear the groans from the others over the Discord voice channel.

I didn't care.

I would go over this plan again and again, if necessary - until *I* was sure we were prepared and it would go off without a hitch.

I would not… COULD NOT… put my friends in unnecessary jeopardy.

Dean is gonna kill me for this, anyway… and I'm ok with that as long as everyone else gets home safely.

"FINE," Cori grumbled. "We step through the mirror and meet outside the bar…"

" I'll pass around the dead man's blood and bullets…" Mags added.

Working in a hospital has other advantages besides providing our medical training.

Mags was able to sneak into the morgue and grab several syringes worth of dead man’s blood, enough for two each.

She also painted several clips of bullets with it.

Neither would kill the vamps but would sure as shit slow them down.

"I've got the medical kits." Cori chimed in.

"I have the burner phones." I confirmed.

I had picked these up during my previous visit since our phones won't have service in the MU.

"And then weapons check…," Ella added eagerly. The metallic clink and soft chime of silver meeting silver rings over the channel. Playing with her silver daggers again.

"But bring your machete," I cautioned. "Those are sweet daggers and you're amazing with them, but silver doesn't affect vamps."

"Maybe not, but will sure slow them down!" Ella chuckled gleefully.

I sighed. The girl was gonna be the death of me.

"Oh, and you all have something to carry this stuff in?" I asked.

This had been a source of discussion for many days. We needed something big enough to carry a twenty-inch machete, medical kit, and dead man's blood, but not big enough to attract attention from any civilians who happened to be in the bar.

We may be going to a world full of monsters, but if years of The Show had taught us anything, it was that most people there were oblivious and perfectly content to stay that way.

Eventually, we decided on backpacks to reinforce our cover as a group of hikers on a trek through the local woods. Ease of access was not a concern with our plan – we would simply arm up before storming the barn. And anyway, should the machetes be spotted or questioned - we needed them to hack through the underbrush.

A chorus of "Yep's" or variants thereof answered my question.

"So after that, we'll head into the bar," I continued. "It will be late afternoon, and with any luck, happy hour."

Because yes, this was a hunt.

But it was also a meet and greet.

And I didn't know about anyone else, but I knew I was gonna need a shot or two of whiskey to take the edge off.

"We'll wait there until dusk, then head to the barn."

"Uh… I have a question, Cee…" Cori spoke up hesitantly.

"Of course! What's up?"

"Why are we waiting until dusk?" she queried. "I mean, they usually sleep during the day, right? Wouldn't it be better to attack them then, when they're all asleep?"

She'd just hit on the heart of the matter.

"If this were a standard vamp hunt, then yes, you're absolutely correct." I took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

"But it's not. It's an audition."

"Audition?" Ella queried, puzzled.

"Yeah… for Dean." Mags huffed. "Plan A didn't convince him, so Plan B has to."

"Yeah," I sighed. "So here's the play. We head to the barn at dusk and wait for the first hunting party to leave. We meet up with them before they get to wherever they're going, and put an end to them. That does three things - gives us a win, provides positive proof we know what we're doing, and cuts down on the number of vamps we'll all have to take care of later."

"All?" Cori asked. "Sam and Dean will be there?"

"Not when we start. We handle the first group on our own." I paused, the nerves starting to creep up.

This was the dicey part.

"Then I call them and… invite them to join."

Silence on the line. I pushed on.

"So, remember that Grace Cas gave me? It's like a beacon - he always knows when I'm over there because he can sense the piece of his Grace that isn't with him."

"So how have you been able to get all this information you've given us - the pictures and descriptions so we can get there through the Looking Glass?" Cori questioned.

I hesitated. I still harbored feelings of guilt over using Jack as an accomplice.

Dean is going to have my head for that as well.

But would my friends?

"Jack helped me. He kept Cas from noticing I was here."

"You used *Jack*?" Mags exclaimed.

"Oh boy…" Ella breathed.

"Dean is going to KILL YOU!" Cori blurted.

I winced at the outburst, but I knew it was coming. Deservedly so.

But it was necessary.

"I didn't have much of a choice," I argued. "We all agreed we needed to help them, right? This is the only way we're going to convince them that we *can*."

I paused. Silence.

I continued. "Anyway, before we head over, I'm gonna text Jack and let him know I'm heading over. He'll block Cas until I give the signal. Then he'll grab Sam, Dean, and Cas, and teleport them to our location. Once they're there, they'll see we've successfully killed vamps by ourselves. Part 1 successful. Then we'll all go to the barn and wipe out the nest. Part 2 successful, positive impression made."

"What's the signal?" Cori inquired.

"Well, here's the tricky part," I sighed. "It's the one part we can't test beforehand."

"OK, and…" Mags prodded.

"I'm going to share the Grace with you…"

A burst of voices from the channel… "What??", "Ohmigod are you sure?", "Huh??"

"… this has two purposes!" I shouted over their protests. "First - remember the first time I crossed over and it knocked me out so bad I slept for a day and a half? Cas gave me the piece of his Grace to prevent that from happening. However, he gave me SO MUCH that everything that touches me over there gets a big jolt."

Oh, right.

I hadn't told them about the encounter I had in the bar… zapping the vamp when he grabbed me.

All I had told them was I found the nest and scoped out the bar. I didn't want to scare them about going there.

It would be pure daylight out - no way the vamps would venture out in that.

We'd be perfectly safe.

I rushed on. "So, when we're done with the first group… I'm gonna put my hand in and you're all gonna grab on, and I'm gonna pass some of this Grace on to you. I'm hoping this will do a few things - one, make it to where you won't be knocked out like I was when this is over. Two, it will decrease the amount of Grace in me, and I'll get to hug my boys again without having to be so damned careful!"

I stopped for a breath. No one spoke.

"Third - this will be Jack's signal to bring the A-Team. When he notices Cas' Grace split four ways, that's his cue."

Silence. Finally, Cori cleared her throat and asked, "What's the plan if you can't transfer the Grace?"

Another possibility I'd considered and scoped out when I went back for pictures.

Full-length mirror in the lady's room of the bar.

"Plan GTFO - Get The Fuck Out. We head back to the bar and you guys jump back through the mirror in the lady's room. It's gonna be painful for you guys after you return, and I'm sorry. If that happens, I'll talk to Cas, see what can be done for future visits."

"Well, you seem to have thought of everything…" Mags offered encouragingly.

"Jesus, I sure as hell hope so," I breathed. "So, everyone still in?"

I waited for what seemed like an eternity.

"HELL YES!"

"What are we waiting for?"

"Let's get this show on the road!"

*******************************************************************************************

Part The Second Coming Very Soon!

#fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #jack kline #castiel #supernatural

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hollyoaksloversx · 5 years

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Saying Goodbye...

Rounding up a week in Hollyoaks (29th April - 3rd May 2019)

It was the week of Lily’s funeral and emotions were running high. At the Teahouse, Peri and Yasmine were busy choosing photos from Peri’s laptop to print out and place on Lily’s coffin, however, Peri was left devastated when Ste took the laptop to post another racist meme, and ended up deleting the pictures. The pair had a blazing row over the situation, just as Leela returned to the village. At the Nightingale’s, following Donna-Marie’s ‘confession’, Romeo was released from prison, but rather than being met by James at the prison gates, he was met by Prince. Prince raged at Romeo for running off with Lily, and made it clear that he blamed him for his wife’s death. Realising that Prince had suffered enough, Romeo told him that Lily had been planning on coming back to him before she died. The two lads came to an understanding and agreed to support each other at the funeral. However, back in the village, Diane was in a right state as she attempted to finalise the arrangements for Lily’s funeral. In a bid to help, Tony, knowing that Diane was worried about things kicking off between Prince and Romeo, asked Romeo not to attend the service, leaving him devastated.

As the day of the funeral arrived, Marnie and James were concerned when Romeo refused to attend the service, and Prince was also upset when he realised that Romeo wasn’t planning on going. As it turned out, Romeo did make it to the church and stood side by side with Prince as they told the congregation how much Lily had meant to them. However, at the wake, Prince accused Romeo of muscling in on his moment to say goodbye to Lily and stormed off. Despite warnings from his family, Prince went to see Liam, who told him that revenge was the best way to get over losing a loved one. Keen to find something new to focus on, Prince begged Liam to allow him to work for him. Yay! Another character dragged into gangster nonsense!

Meanwhile, there was tension between Darren and Nancy as she struggled to adjust to Charlie and Oscar’s involvement with Darren’s new family. The boys were thrilled when Darren presented them with a new tablet, suggesting they take it to the hospital to take some photos of DJ, but Nancy reacted by confiscating it, telling Darren that she was trying to reduce their screen time. Nancy’s annoyance over the situation once back at home meant that she failed to notice Kyle acting shiftily, and after receiving a phone call from his ex, Colin, he headed off to meet him with a bag of goodies he’d pinched from the Osborne’s, including Charlie and Oscar’s tablet. Colin told Kyle that he’d ruined his life and if he didn’t pay up, he’d ‘tell the others’ where he was. The conversation was witnessed from afar by Darren, and he jumped to the conclusion that Kyle must be having an affair. The following morning, Nancy and Charlie awoke to find several items missing and Nancy quickly called the police, assuming they’d been burgled. Later, Darren told Nancy what he’d seen the previous night, but Nancy was quick to rubbish his claims. However, it seems she may have been premature when she later overheard Kyle on the phone to someone, saying that Nancy couldn’t find out what he’d been up to...

Elsewhere, love was in the air for Cleo and Mitchell as Walter finally gave the pair his blessing. Having realised that Cleo had been going through a tough time with her mental health, Walter invited her round to dinner, much to Mitchell’s delight. Cleo proved to be a massive hit with Walter when he discovered she loved a quiz show just as much as he did! With the date having gone well, Mitchell and Cleo made plans to see each other again, but with Mitchell’s shift patterns at the hospital, finding time proved difficult. It was then that Cleo announced the perfect way they could spend more time together; she could train as a nurse. Because of course, she’s bound to get a job at the same hospital as Mitchell and they’ll definitely be on shift together in the same departments. And we definitely know that Doctors and nurses get loads of breaks to sneak off for a quick bunk up in the store cupboard. Mitchell was delighted with the idea of having a ‘sexy nurse’ for a girlfriend but Cleo took his words a little too literally and later burst in wearing a kinky nurses outfit whilst Mitchell was examining a patient! Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind too much!

In other news this week, Maxine was annoyed as Damon seemed to be spending more time with Brody at the Loveboat than with her. Not wanting to spend her ‘last days’ alone, Maxine told Damon that she wanted to see more of him. He agreed, but failed to share the news with Brody, who had just invited a blogger to come and check out the boat, meaning the pair would need to spend more time at work. Juliet struggled to come to terms with Donna-Marie’s imprisonment but was soon cheered up when Marnie gave her a lesson in etiquette. Finally, Romeo enjoyed a nice night out with step-dad, Harry.

5 Things We Learned This Week:

1. It’s all about the memories. Sylver was busy preparing a memory tree for Bobby to take to school this week. But what sort of things might the youngster want to put on it? That time Mercedes faked a kidnapping of him? What about when Grandad Carl became a raging alcoholic? Or when new Daddy, Russ, got murdered on his wedding day? So many happy memories to choose from!

2. Ste and a laptop is an absolute disaster. Not only will he delete your precious photos, but he’ll post racist memes all over the internet. Keep him away!

3. Don’t buy loose fruit in Price Slice. It’s been balanced on Marnie’s head.

4. The Deveraux’s are massive quiz show fans. Well, The Family Chase is a thing now. Get them on it and let’s have a crossover! Martine can show off her extensive knowledge of 90s girl bands, too!

5. Regression, regression, regression. Liam had started to become more tolerable over the last few weeks, having turned to God and started to spend more time with baby Iona. So who’s bright idea was it to have him return to the dark side this week?

Characters Featured:

Anthony, Brody, Charlie, Cleo, Damon, Darren, Dee Dee, Diane, Goldie, Grace, Harry, James, Jesse, Jonny, Juliet, Kyle, Laurie, Leela, Liam, Mandy, Marnie, Martine, Maxine, Mercedes, Mitchell, Nana McQueen, Nancy, Oscar, Peri, Prince, Romeo, Rose, Scott, Sinead, Ste, Sylver, Tony, Walter and Yasmine.

Past Characters Mentioned:

Glenn Donovan, Lily Drinkwell, Eva Falco, Tegan Lomax, Tabby Maxwell-Brown, Celine McQueen, Hunter McQueen, Alfie Nightingale, Ellie Nightingale, Mac Nightingale, Nathan Nightingale, Donna-Marie Quinn, Shane Sweeney.

#Hollyoaks #Highlight #Romeo Quinn #Prince McQueen #Ste Hay #Diane O'Connor #Lily Drinkwell #Liam Donovan #Martine Deveraux #Walter Deveraux #Mitchell Deveraux #Cleo McQueen #Darren Osborne #Nancy Osborne #Charlie Dean #Oscar Osborne #maxine minniver #James NIghtingale #Harry Thompson

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haltandcatchfiretothemax · 6 years

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FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2019 #8: In which Cameron tries to give herself a break

[CW: food, alcohol]

Bringing up the realtor had made things awkward, and Cameron felt guilty about it, even though it was a weirdly comfortable discomfort. She and Donna had dealt with their share of tension, it was entirely possible, Cameron had thought to herself while driving to Donna’s, that they were more acclimated to being slightly agitated with each other than not. Cameron imagined what that pie chart might look like: if you could tally up the number of days they’d worked together at Mutiny, and divide them into ‘days spent in some kind of disagreement’ and ‘days in agreement with no awkwardness’, the number of days spent in some kind of disagreement would probably be much larger. The chart’s days in agreement would make up a healthy slice, but, only a slice. Not a half, or even a third, or a quarter, even. They’d disagreed more often than they’d agreed, and they were working together again, Cameron tried to reassure herself. It would be okay.

Donna had been a little quieter than usual for the rest of that week, thought still eager to work. They suddenly weren’t as chatty as they had been, as if they’d both suddenly become too conscious of how easily they went back and forth. Cameron hadn’t slept on Donna’s couch all week, and had stopped lingering after they decided to stop for the evening. Donna noticed it, but seemed to take it okay. Every night she would walk Cameron out, and trying hard to sound casual, she would ask, “Are you alright?” Cameron would always say, “Yeah, I’m fine, I just wanna get home before it gets any later.” She let Donna hug her, and say, “Get home safe,” and Cameron would say, “I will, I’ll call you.” She would leave promptly, and then she’d get home 45 minutes later, change into her pajamas, and call Donna’s house. “I made it home,” Cameron would say, and then Donna would say, “Good, I’m glad to hear it. See you tomorrow?” “See you tomorrow,” Cameron would nod. They would say good night and hang up, and then both go to lie awake in their respective beds and think about how weird things had been.

They were both uncharacteristically relieved to make it to Friday that week. Saturday had become their day off, and as Donna walked Cameron to her truck, she said, “So. Any plans for tomorrow?”

“Dinner with Bos,” Cameron grinned, “I’ve been slacking on our weekly schedule. He wants to go somewhere fancy, some upscale hibachi place? I usually make him go to a diner, so, I’m humoring him. How about you?” After a slightly nervous breath, Cameron asked, “Got a hot date planned for tomorrow night?”

Donna chuckled lightly. “I’m gonna try to make myself get out of the house, despite not having anything resembling a hot date. I’m spending the day with Haley, and if I’m feeling up to it, I don’t know, maybe I’ll get dressed up and go out tomorrow night?” They stood by the truck now, and Donna put her hands in her pockets. “It’s been awhile,” she said, “it might be nice.”

“Oh, okay,” Cameron said. She wasn’t sure if this made her feel better, though it didn’t seem to make her feel worse.” When Donna hugged her, Cameron said, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do tomorrow night. Be careful, okay?”

“I will,” Donna had promised.

The restaurant was close to Cameron’s property, and she was only a few minutes late. She was relieved to find that it wasn’t too large or too busy. When she got there Bos was already sitting in a cozy circular booth and looking at a menu, a large bottle of sake on the table. When he looked up to see her, he said, “There she is! And a half hour earlier than usual! I was prepared to enjoy this entire bottle of sake by myself while I waited!”

“You’re exaggerating,” Cameron smiled as she sat down next to him. “I’m not that bad. Also,” she grabbed the bottle of sake and looked at it, “this would have you under the table if you drank the whole thing. I’ve had it, it’s very affordable, but, extremely potent.”

“See now this is why I need you here with me kid,” Bos laughed. “You can rate how authentic this hibachi experience is for me!”

Their waitress, a short young woman with very black hair and very brown skin, placed a plate of fried tofu on the table in front of them. When she asked if they needed another minute, Bos insisted that Cameron order for the both of them, so she looked at the menu and asked for the steak, the vegetables, and the salmon. As soon as the waitress left them, Bos smirked, “Well I’m sure Diane will appreciate that you went with the vegetables and the salmon.”

Cameron had grabbed and begun to munch on a piece of tofu. She swallowed, and unable to resist, said, “Well, if authenticity is important to you, technically, this isn’t hibachi. The actual name for food cooked on this kind of grill in Japan is teppanyaki. Hibachi grills are a little different, and they use charcoal.”

Bos smiled warmly at her and then teased her, “Yeah, yeah, we get it. You lived in Tokyo, you’re a woman of the world now.” Sincerely, he asked, “So what’s doin’, kid? How are things? How’s Donna?”

When Cameron frowned at him, he said, “Oh come on now….”

“It’s nothing,” Cameron shook her head. “I’m sure it will be fine, I just, I made it awkward, and we’re both just trying to get over it. I think.”

Feigning only slightly more aggravation than he felt, Bos looked at her sternly and said, “Catherine, I have already had one heart attack, alright?” Shocked, Cameron started to laugh, but Bos pressed on, “No, now listen to me! My ticker has been through it, alright, you can’t fool with me like this! What did you do, Cameron?”

He was joking, mostly, but Cameron suddenly felt very nervous. “I didn’t do anything, I just, I brought up something that happened a long time ago.” Bos narrowed his eyes at her, and Cameron said, “Not a fight or anything like that, I know better than that. When I bought my first house here, Donna went with me to see it, and the realtor treated us like we were a couple. She clearly thought we were buying the house together.”

Bos looked at her for a moment, and then with a mischievous grin, he said, “What happened? Did the two of you fight in front of her?” When Cameron responded by stuffing a whole square of tofu into her mouth and looking down into her plate, Bos let out a howling laugh. When he finally settled down after a full minute, he said, “Well okay, so she got confused. It’s a mistake anyone could make! Especially back then.”

“Someone else said it recently, though,” Cameron blurted out. “We ran into Simon Church at a conference last month and then we had him over for dinner at Donna’s and when I walked him out to his car, he said we made a great couple.”

Eye brows knitting, Bos asked, “Why do I know that name?”

“He’s the industrial designer we brought in for the Giant,” Cameron said, still looking into her plate.

“Ah ha,” Bos’s face relaxed. “So did you two fight in front of Simon?”

“No,” Cameron sighed. She propped an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. “We had a very nice evening, we were the perfect hostesses. Honestly, it was the best wifely performance of my life.”

“I see,” Bos said. “And what did Donna say when you told her that Simon had mistaken you for an item?”

“I didn’t tell her,” Cameron said. She looked at Bos, and saw that he was looking at her. “What? Why are you looking at me like you know something I don’t?”

“I don’t!” Bos insisted. “I just think that it’s interesting, is all. That you didn’t tell her.”

“I don’t know, I think I was in shock,” Cameron said, wrinkling her nose. “I mean, it took a minute for it to sink in. And we’d had a really nice night and things with the navigator were going really well, so I didn’t say anything.”

“Did you maybe think it would upset her? No? Did it upset you?” Bos pressed her.

“No,” Cameron said. “Not exactly. I wasn’t offended or anything. It’s not the first time people have looked at me and, you know, assumed.”

Bos struggled to suppress a smirk. Then he said, “So something about it did make you feel some sort of way.” When Cameron frowned at him, he said, “Sounds like you got some figurin’ out to do, Slim.”

Their waitress and two of her fellow servers brought out their food, which looked and smelled delicious, especially after that particular conversation. “You know what, it’s fine. It’s gonna be fine,” Cameron said. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“That’s the spirit!” Bos said, reaching over for the steak. “Stay positive, don’t make a big deal outta something silly, some thing someone said that’s actually a compliment to the two of you.”

“Exactly,” Cameron said, apprehensively reaching for the salmon. “So, what about you? How’s Diane?”

For the next two hours, they talked and laughed as they ate and drank, and Cameron managed to forget the quiet panic she’d been in all week. But then Bos reassured her out in the parking lot, as they said their good nights, that she’d be alright and that some things just need time to sort themselves out. By the time Cameron got back to her trailer, she was back to feeling the weird, existential-feeling nausea she’d been fighting off all week.

#a long(er)read #that was a little more draining than i though it would be but...i can go rest now so i'm ok with that!#femslash february #femslash february 2019 #fic #fan fiction #cameron howe #donna clark #donna emerson #john bosworth

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timelordvictoiouspartyof1 · 6 years

Text

Rules were made....Ch10

Summary: It’s been almost a year since you left Bucky for cheating on you. You missed him so much you convinced yourself you could just be friends with him. After having lunch with him in a local diner you made some rules and convinced him too that a friendship was possible.

Words: 6,100+

Warnings: Guns, death

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader (who I call Maggie, Mags or Magdalene because I don’t like Y/N)

Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8 Ch9

Playlist Songs To Murder To:

Mr. Blue Sky by ELO

Never be the same by Camila Cabello

Human by Rag’n’Bone Man

You Make My Dreams by Hall & Oats

Ride by Twenty One Pilots

I love you always forever by Donna Lewis

Smooth Criminal by Alien Ant Farm

Bucky jumped out of bed. He started pacing the room. “Who took her? Tell me everything you saw.”

The man’s voice on the other end of the line was broken, he sighed, “Not much. Three guys came up behind us. Two grabbed her and she started screaming then the other guy hit me over the head and I passed out. I just came to. What are we going to do?”

“We are not going to do anything. Go home Oliver. Go home and someone will call you when I fix this.” He could have said ‘and Maggie when call when she’s safe,’ or ‘I’ll let you know when everything’s okay’. But bile had risen in the back of his throat when he had heard Oliver’s voice and he could still taste it. He hung up the phone.

He stormed into the closet and started rummaging in one of the drawers for clothes. He should have asked Oliver how long ago you it was since you were taken but he was so angry and eager to get off the phone and get into motion. He grabbed what he wanted out the drawer and called Steve.

“Where are you?” He barked into the phone when Steve answered.

“Woah man! I’m pulling into your drive now. Settle do-.”

“They took her Steve. Someone took Mags and that pussy Oliver was too weak to stop them.” He hung up and started putting clothes on. Dressed in all black, tight long sleeve shirt and cargo pants. He walked through the bathroom into his office. He unlocked the door and pulled it open. Then walked over to the wall opposite the bathroom door and waved his hand over a particular part of nondescript paneling and it lit up. He pressed his hand to it the typed in an eight digit code when the numbers displayed themselves. The middle third of the wall pushed in and slide over revealing a display of weapons and other paraphernalia. The other three men walked in the room before the wall had finished its movements.

“Woah woah woah, what is this?” Scott whistled in awe. “I thought I was the tech guy.”

A smirk pulled across Bucky’s stern expression. “This pre-dates you by a couples years. I had this put in when the house was built.” He didn’t turn to face them, he just kept appraising the hardware. The two men stood behind him waiting, Sam was still in the hall talking to someone on the phone. “Steve, how drunk are you?”

“I’m not. Just water with a lime on the edge.”

“What!” Scott sounded shocked. “Man I was so impressed with how many you were slamming back.” He realized how loud he was actually speaking. “Okay, maybe I’m a little drunk.”

“Well, get over it. Did you figure out anything new?” All humor gone from his voice.

“No boss, sorry.” He replied somberly.

“It’s no problem. I think we have more than enough info to make this work.” He pulled four large guns off the rack and placed them on the desk. Handing a box of ammo to Steve. “Get to work. Who is Sam on the phone with?”

Steve took the box and walked over to the desk and started loading the guns. “Everyone. He was already calling Smoot’s guys, then Taylor’s men. Need to know where to meet.”

“That abandoned gas station a mile or so away from the ship yard. I think it’s on Birch St. As soon as anyone can get there.” Steve walked out the room, told Sam and returned to his task.

Bucky started organizing his thought out loud. “We have men, and guns, a place to meet. We need a plan. I wish we had a better way to communicate because we are going to need to split up when we get there. We can’t be calling each other.”

“I can help with that.” Scott piped up feeling useful again. Both men stopped what they were doing and turned to him. “In my room upstairs. I have, well made, a bunch of stuff like that, that maybe could help. I mean, I am the tech guy. But you gotta come up there, I can’t bring it all down.”

“Give us five minutes, we’re almost done here.” They made quick work to finish. As they did two other men walked in. “Excellent. Put all of this in the back of one of the black BMWs and pull all three of them around. Come on Scott, show us what you can do.”

All three men walked out of the room and Steve caught Sam’s attention to follow up stairs. When they walked in the room there was stuff everywhere. Open shipping boxes full of parts, tools scattered everywhere. The small trash can by the table in the back of the room was full and overflowing, a pile of trash surrounding it. It looked like every box he had opened exploded all over the room. The only cleared surface was the bed.

“You haven’t even been here a week, dude. How did this happen?” Steve chuckled.

“Back off. This is how I work. Don’t stunt my creativity. The stuffs over here.” He walked to the other side of the room and started pulling out small plastic boxes. He explained the ear buds and how they worked. Open channel for as many as he wanted but he had only made thirteen so far. He hung his head and spoke quietly. “I also made some small explosives.” He didn’t say another word waiting for their reaction.

Bucky’s rumbling laugh broke the silence. “I’m sorry, what? You were making explosives in my house? I don’t know that I’m completely ok with that. But it’s already done so show me what ya got.” They were small. It took two pieces to activate them. Carry them separately and when you’re ready, connect them and they detonate after thirty seconds.

“This is kind of awesome.” Bucky said impressed. “Well, you’ve got the job. But don’t double cross me, you will live long enough to regret it, I promise you.” He assured the man with a straight face. “Come on, lets suit up, we’ve wasted enough time.”

They all went back to Bucky’s office and pulled knives and other weapons off the rack. Steve and Sam started in, Scott hesitated. “We’re dangerous, not stupid. Come on, it’s part of the uniform, no exceptions. Take what you want”

Scott took a step back. “It’s not that. I’m not the dangerous type. I’m more of the guy in the chair type. I can help from here. Satellite feeds, updates. I can crack almost anything from here, alarms, scramble their radios. Let me be the chair guy. I can help more that way.”

Bucky put the last item he pulled back on the rack. “Okay, but when we leave I’m locking the house up tight. You can walk around as much as you want but don’t open any external doors or windows. I already told Hope to send everyone home. She insisted on staying, keep an eye on her. Anything, I mean anything looks weird, call this number, not the police. Come on guys.” He locked all his doors and set all the codes to lock everything in then they left.

You put up a fight. You were drunk but as soon as you felt a hand around your arm you spun fist clenched. Your purse hit the ground when the other man picked you up, spilling some of its contents. You screamed like a damn damsel, that’s the only thing you regret. Of course you knew how to fight. Bucky would never have kept you that close and not given you some guidance. You were just too petite to get enough force behind it. There were three guys. Two tried grabbing you but you turned and your fist connected to something that crunched.

“Bitch!” the man yelled blood already gushing out of his nose. The third guy, who was still towering over Oliver must have abandoned his intent and clocked him over the head leaving him unconscious on the pavement. The other guy was losing his grip on you struggling but the guy with the bloody nose came down hard slapping you on the face making you stagger.

“Back off. The boss said one piece. And he meant not a hair out of place. Get ahold of yourself. Make yourself useful and get her bag off the ground and open the trunk.” He did as he was told then walked over and opened the trunk. They unceremoniously threw you in, rolling you over they tired your hands behind your back then tied a gag around your mouth. You knew there was no reason to waste energy kicking the inside of the trunk, it would be insulated for this very purpose. You steadied your breathing and tried to count turns, to listen for anything that might clue Bucky in if you had the chance to speak with him.

Finally the car stopped and they opened the lid, picked you up and placing you on your feet. “Fix her dress, we don’t need him anymore pissed off then he will undoubtedly already be. Get her inside.”

You smelled water, looking around you assumed you were on some shipping port. A cool breeze blew sending chills up your whole body. You stood there, knees shaking, trying to steady yourself. Of course you were afraid, you knew this was about Bucky, which meant you knew Bucky would come for you. He would always come for you. A tight hand gripped your arm again and pushed you inside into a warehouse. The walked you through several hallways and down a flight of stairs. A strong hand forced you down into a chair. Two other men came over and tied you to the chair and removed your gag. You said nothing, just kept a resting bitch face and scanned the room. Bucky had taught you that too, what to look for, weaknesses, exits, neglected weapons. One of the men from earlier tossed your bag on the table a few feet away from you.

There were four men total, now that the coming and going had subsided. Two standing at the table, the other two a few feet from the door. None of them spoke to you or even looked at you, they were unimportant you decided. Just then the door opened and an older man dressed in a nice suit walked in followed by two other men. One very tall and muscular, the other average size, good looking. You recognized him, but from where.

The older man walked over to you and appraised you then turned to the smaller man accompanying him. “Is this her? Is this his girl, the woman that has all of Mr. Barnes’ attention?”

“Yes, sir.” He said confidently.

“Then why do they tell me he was nowhere around? Not only that, she was getting very friendly with another man. Someone no one has ever seen before. Not any of his known acquaintances.”

“This is her, no mistake.” He was looking nervous, creating distance from the older man at a slow rate.

You smirked, letting out the tiniest laugh, then let it fade from your lips, when you finally placed the man. “Yes, miss. Do you have something to add?” the older man was clearly irritated.

“It’s just funny. I mean, it’s not that I gave you a second thought after I got in my car and drove away from the running trails, but it did make me feel kind of pretty.” You said slowly, every word dripped in sarcasm. It was the man from the park, you thought he was hitting on you but he was just making sure you were the bait to get to Bucky. “I do have to add though, finding that out has so far been the most disappointing part of the evening so far.”

The irritation fell from his face, replaced with a sinister smile. “Good, good. That means we don’t have long. We just need a little information from you dearie. Then we will call your prince and let him know where he can come and retrieve you. So, the sooner you talk, the sooner all of this unpleasantness can be over.”

He started out very professional, asking you things about Bucky’s house and schedule. You didn’t say a word. You could see the impatience rising. He motioned at the larger man. He walked over and backhanded you, cutting your cheek open with his ring. You rocked your jaw back and forth a couple times. Your hands were tied behind the back of the chair and your ankles to the legs of the chair.

“Let’s start again,” The older man posed as the large man stepped to the other side of the room again. He asked the same questions over and over again, and again you didn’t answer. “My patience is thin. Go ahead Drax, get her feeling chatty.”

He stepped away and Drax moved closer. He grabbed a fist full of your hair and pulled your head back hard and punched you in the stomach. You groaned and tried to curl forward, his hand in your hair kept your body from moving. He jerked his hand away and punched you in the jaw.

Tears fell down your face and you spit blood on the floor. You wanted to lose it. To cry and curl up in the fetal position. It hurt so much, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. He stepped back from you.

“Anything to say yet?” he asked, sounding incredibly stupid. That was the only conscious thought running laps in your brain was how incredibly stupid this man probably was. The last thirty minutes had sobered you up pretty good but you were still tipsy. You giggled to yourself, thinking how grateful you were that you didn’t have to actually ever have a conversation with this man. “What’s so funny?” he asked angrily, thinking his assault had no effect on you.

You spit more blood on the floor again and full on laughed. “I was just thinking about how incredibly stupid you must be.” He tilted his head to the side like a dog, looking confused. “I mean in everyday life I’m sure you are, but you really must be. He’ll kill for this, you know. All of you.” you looked at the men scattered around the edges of the room. “YOU HEAR ME!” that caught their attention. “HE’S GOING TO KILL YOU FOR THIS! Every. Last. One. Of. You.”

In anger Drax rushed you with blade in hand and cut a ten inch gash horizontal across your rib cage. “Tell us what you know!” he barked. “You must know something. Tell us what you know!”

The cut burned like fire spreading across your torso. You gathered your remaining strength and pressed the pain back. You mind was racing. How long had you been gone? Was you phone in your purse? You never did turn off phone tracker, Bucky could find you if it was in there? If not did he know where they would take you? How long would it take him to get to you? Would you be able to hold out long enough? “Fine, I’ll tell you what I what I know. I’ll tell you all about the house.” You coughed and tasted bile and blood. “Water first.” That was good right, waste some time. It didn’t take long, someone carried a bottle of water in. He poured some in your mouth.

“Now talk!” The old man demanded from the back of the room, spit flying from his mouth.

You steadied yourself. You spoke slowly at first not knowing where you were going with the words, “His house is three stories. It’s a spacious eight bedroom, modern build. It has two master bedrooms, located on different floors, a sunroom, and three spacious living rooms. A full kitchen inside set off to the side and an outdoor kitchen as well. There is an in ground pool and hot tub with pool house. Overseeing a gorgeous, unobstructed, view off the back patio. It’s located in a gorgeous up and coming neighborhood on almost a full acre.” You said in your best game show voice. “The property was appraised at $1.1 mill, but sorry fellas, I don’t think he’s trying to sell right now.”

Drax growled and added a matching cut an inch below the first. You cried out in pain. “He won’t like you so much if you come back broken. You should talk soon or it will all have been in vain, my sweet girl. We will return you looking no better than a rag doll and he won’t want you then. That is if we don’t kill you.” He turned to the other men in the room. “What else do we have? Has anyone gone through her bag? Anything in there?”

One of the men turned and dumped the bag on the table. It was a clutch so it didn’t hold much. A lipstick, a few lose cigarettes, a lighter, some cash and your iPod. No phone, damn!

“I’ll take a smoke if you don’t mind.” The old man turned and looked at you.

“Fine.” He waved his in your direction. “She’s not getting out of this room with all of us here anyway.” One of the men walked over and put one in your mouth, he lit it then cut one hand free.

“If we’re gunna be here a while turn on some music.” You were in too much pain, any distraction had to help. The old man was huddled on the other side of the room with three others, not paying attention to you. You made eyes at the man who cut your hand free. “Come on. It’s won’t hurt anything.” He walked over and got the device off the table. “The code is 8888. Go to playlists, I know just what we need. Hit the playlist, Songs To Murder To.” He complied. The first song came on right as the powwow broke up. The Ipod got tossed back on the table still playing.

Drax approached you. “You are running out of time because he is running out of patience.” He motioned towards his father. You sat there silently smoking. You didn’t know what he thought that was going to pull from you. Silence fell the room except ELO on the player.

Finally the old man spoke, “What is this garbage playing, turn it off. Who put this on anyway? It’s no way to work.” Irritation consuming his.

“Leave it on, come on, I need to know.” You interjected.

“Need to know what?” the man barked at you again.

“Not really a need so much as a want. I want to know what Bucky will be listening to when he shows up to murder each and every one of you.” There was a distant sound of explosion. Relief flooded you. “See.” Drax lost control and made a third cut under the other two. You used your free hand to break his nose before he could do more damage. Fear flooded the old man’s face. He started barking orders, sent some of the men to go find the noise and the rest to stand guard outside the door. Then the two of you sat facing each other in silence as more noises erupted outside.

They drove off from the house in a hurry, not noticing Oliver parked down the street. He followed them as they pulled away. Bucky got out of the car at the abandoned gas station. There were already over thirty men gathered, leaning on cars, all armed heavily. He was impressed. This was the empire he had built but he had never put it to use like this. He walked over to one of the men, pulling out his pack of smokes and lit one up. He greeted as many as he thought necessary. They all knew him. Some had been part of his father’s crew, men he had known most of his life, he was careful in who he had kept. Most of them were handpicked by him or Steve, but ultimately he would assess them for himself before bringing them on.

Steve walked over to the back of one of the cars and unrolled the plans Scott had printed across the trunk. The other men took turns reviewing them as Steve spoke laying out the plans. The men were grouped off and started getting the rest of their things situated.

“This open field behind here leads right to the docks. There’s bolt cutter in my trunk. Grab them just in case.” One of the other men called to another. Bucky handed out com systems to the head of every family and gave instructions. After putting his own he reached into one of the pockets and put one of his wireless headphones into the other ear and prompted his iPod. He pulled a mask out from another pocket and secured it to his face, guarding him against any smoke or debris. When all of the men had stopped their movement and turned to face him he raised one hand and turned it in the air a few times and they started forward through the field.

There was a chain link fence surrounding the docks and he men made quick work of cutting out a hole large enough to slip in. Once Bucky made it through he reached in his pocket and pressed play. ELO sprang to life in his ear. Bucky chuckled to himself, you had a sick sense of humor. God, he was so in love with you. He steeled himself again, ready for the task at hand. He adjusted the volume, needing a balance of music but also able to hear everything around him. When everyone was in they spilt up and departed in different directions. Sam led his team around the back of the building Bucky and Scott had decided was mostly where you were being kept. Bucky And Steve took three other men with them to the front. There was some chatter in the com between some of the other men and Scott giving directions, or a count of bodies outside the buildings. Right before they reached the door gun shots fired in the distance.

“We need to get this done fast now. Someone will know we’re here now. You got that Sam?” he called and Sam confirmed. One of the men pulled the door open on a silent count of three and Bucky stormed in first, sweeping his gun from side to side. They moved down the hallways quickly, then came to an opening in the back. Close behind him a shot went off. Steve was right behind his and clipped a guy as he was coming up a set of stairs. Bucky quickly turned to see the target as another man came up and Bucky pulled his own trigger dropping the second man. He and Steve looked at each other in gratitude.

“I’d put money that’s where they have her.” Steve motioned to the two men now bleeding on the stairs.

“No doubt. Let’s sweep this top area first. We don’t need anyone coming up behind us.” The five men spread out opening extra doors and closets. Bucky heard two shots behind him and sent Steve to follow up.

Sam’s voice came through the coms. “Shit!” Gun fire was heard outside the building. “We’re pinned down out here. Someone open the fucking door.”

“What side of the building are you on?” The concern in Steve’s voice was only noticeable to Bucky.

“Fuck man, I don’t know. I’ll send a signal.”

“I’m inside. I can’t see any signal.” Steve’s legs were carrying him swiftly about the perimeter of the room, not knowing what he was looking for. Then everyone heard it, an explosion. The door to Steve’s right rattled.

“Get back!” he yelled, and kicked the door open with more force than necessary. The other men ran in pulling the door behind them.

“Let’s get moving men, everyone will have heard that. Steve, with me down those steps. The rest of you spread out and don’t let anyone in behind us. The men moved into action. Steve followed Bucky down the stairs, stepping over the bodies. When they reached the bottom the hallway spilt. Bucky went right, Steve took left. Bucky kicked open a couple doors, not running into anyone. He was about to open the last door when he heard shots. He turned and ran towards the direction Steve had gone. He saw three bodies on the floor. Aiming his gun he turned just in time to see Steve get hit twice in the chest. He stumbled back, losing is balance, tripping over one of the bodies. As he went down another bullet connected.

Bucky’s jaw turned to stone, his eyes burning red and his chest tightened. he couldn’t breathe. Bile rose in the back of his throat as he choked back silent weeping. He tucked the gun to his chest with his flesh hand not trusting himself, his metal hand gripped into a fist. His body ached to scream out, to run over and check his wounds. He breathed out deeply and raised his gun again. He pressed himself to the wall and peeked around the corner counting men. Four. Find the pattern. He leaned away and closed his eyes briefly, calculating his next move. His eyes flashed open and he quickly jerked into the doorway, getting off all four shots before they had time to react, the room was clear. He stepped around Steve’s motionless body, as blood started pooling on the concrete floor.

“Sam……….Steve’s down.” He said solemnly into the com. “I don’t know how many men are still down here. I’m going to Maggie.” He didn’t wait for a reply just proceeded forward. Out of nowhere something struck him in the back of the head. He stumbled, then quickly dodged a fist coming at his face. Gun still in his flesh hand his metal fist connected. It was Drax and Bucky saw red. He was in a black-out rage. He threw his gun in the corner.

“You won’t live long enough to regret this, but I’m certain you father is on the other side of that door and he will.” Bucky struck again. As his fist connected to Drax’s face he felt the cold metal of a blade penetrate his side. He stepped back and Drax pulled the blade out as he went. A sick grin crossed Bucky’s face. Drax sent a right hook into his jaw.

“Your buddy over there don’t look so good. He came around that corner too quick and I got a couple clean shots on him. Too bad you weren’t there to protect him, just like the little misses in there. I messed her up too.” He stated proudly.

Bucky wiped the blood off his lip with his metal thumb and pulled the knife off his thigh with the other hand. “I changed my mind. You will feel the pain of my blade.”

Drax lunged forward and Bucky dropped his body into a knee. He sliced across the other man’s stomach. Turning as he stood up and stabbing him in the shoulder causing Drax to drop his knife. Bucky kicked it away quickly. He grabbed him by the throat and threw him to the ground, jamming his knife into his thigh. Drax screamed out in pain as he went down. When his cries fell silent Bucky heard you scream from the other side of the door. He quickly retracted his knife and stabbed the large man square in the chest. Grabbed his gun and kicked the door open.

He led with his gun into the room. His blood ran cold when he took in the scene of the room. You were tied to a chair, cut and bloody. The old man was standing behind you with a gun to your head. He ripped the mask off his face and gave you a smile, completely ignoring the other man. “Hey princess,” he spoke calmly, reaching up and pulling the ear bud out and tossing it on the floor. “Good song baby, I was just listening to the same thing.” You smiled despite yourself. He was so endearing, love dripping from every syllable, no harshness or cruelty. “I need you to do me a favor and stay calm, ok pretty girl?” Your body was tense but you remained perfectly still, you nodded your head.

“This is your last chance to walk out of here alive Banner?” He was like Jekyll and Hyde. A different man now stood before you. You had never seen this man before. You knew he had this side. All those nights he came home bloody. The countless times you bandaged knuckles busted open. The smell of gun powder on his hand as he caressed your face. But you had never in fact witnessed it, you tried not to let it terrify you.

There was a rattle of noise outside the door. Your face turned from calm to terror as another one of Banner’s men stepped in the door and got a single shot off, missing Bucky. Keeping his eyes in a dead lock on Banner he turned his gun and fired, hitting the man square in the forehead and the body dropped with a thud. “What’s it going to be?”

“I have the upper hand here.” Banner tried to find his leverage but fear drenched his words. “So, no. I think I’ll play the hand I have.”

You cried out quietly in pain. You had tried to hold it in but the bullet had pierced through your shoulder and warm blood was now flowing down your arm. The noise distracted the old man and Bucky used that split second to pull a knife and throw it. It sank into the other man’s neck and he dropped his arm. Bucky rushed forward and kicked him full force in the chest, causing him to stumble back and fall into the table. Just then Sam ran into the room with men following him.

“Get him tied up,” Bucky motioned to the body. “but keep him alive. He is going to suffer for this.” He dropped in front of you, brushing your hair off your face. He went to start untying you when he saw the blood on your arm. He’s motions became smoother, he stopped jerking the ropes so much. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” His eyes were wet, but he held his composer. When he was done cutting the ropes off you he put his hand out to help you up. “Someone get her stuff off the table.” He ordered.

You stumbled to get up. “James,” you said weakly, trying to hold back stairs. “I turned my ankle. I can’t walk.” It was almost a whisper. He reached down, putting an arm under your knees and picked you up.

He carried you out. You let out a gasp as he stepped around Steve, lying bloody on the floor. He moved up the stairs his nose buried in the hair whispering apologize and confessions of love the whole way. “God baby, I’m so sorry. Don’t look. You’re safe now and that’s all that matters. I’m going to take of you, of all of this.” He started swearing in Russian.

There was still gunfire going off in the back ground, it became louder when you got outside. You scanned the area, looking for a car or anything to get you away from here. That’s when you saw Oliver, leaning against his car. Bucky set you down, still supporting you. He leaned into your ear, “Go to him. Just go. I’m not done here.” He kissed your temple, his last goodbye. Your mind was so confused. You just wanted to get away. You took off half running half limping to your freedom. Oliver saw you and ran your direction. He put his arms around you and picked you up into a hug. The cuts on your torso burned. “God, baby. I was so worried. Come on, let’s go.” There was fear in his voice. When you reached the car he opened the door and tried to hurry you inside of it. He wanted to get away from this place as fast as he could. That’s when you heard yelling from behind you. You stopped one leg in the car. Oliver went to speak but you placed a hand on his mouth and shushed him.

You could barely make out what he was saying. “Banner is done! Whatever he was paying you, the money stops now. I will allow anyone who is here to hire to leave, but know you owe me a debt and I will come to claim it. If you leave now my men will let you go, you have three minutes to do so. To everyone else, everyone directly connected to this lunacy, stop now and we will delivery some amount of mercy!” All of the gun fire ceased.

“Maggie! Get in the car.” He demanded. You stepped out and limped to the back. You saw Bucky surrounded by several of his men. At some point he looked over and saw you were still there. A moment later he started towards you. You smiled and started towards him. Oliver tried to grab your arm but was too late and you pulled it free. When you reached him you tried to put both arms around him, but neither would raise. He stopped running a few feet from you when he saw your pain and slowly walked to close the distance.

Tears fell silently down your face. “Oh my god, Steve.” You started sobbing uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry. Oh god, we have to tell Nat. You shouldn’t be out here with me right now you should be with him.” You were frantic, he wrapped his arms around you lightly.

He shushed you, trying to calm you. “The guys have instructions, everything is under control. But, Maggie, I want you to know how sorry I am for all for this. I never thought it would be you in harm’s way.” He pulled back and pressed his forehead to yours. He was strategic where he placed his hands on you. Just above your hip on the side without the gashes he laid his hand and rubbed small circles with his thumb. “Let me get you bandaged up. Let me fix this and then you can go with him and you will never have to see me ever again.” His voice broke half way through.

“You’re such and idiot.” Bucky’s hands stopped moving. He was crushed. His body tensed, but he was ready for this. He stood there like a child waiting to be scolded. “It’s you. It’s always been you.” you reached your hands up as high as they would go and grabbed his collar pulling him into a kiss. As soon as he kissed back you cried out in pain and fell into him. The adrenaline was wearing off and the pain was overwhelming you. You closed your eyes and more tears fell. He caught you awkwardly, trying not to touch anything that might be hurt.

“SO THAT’S IT THEN?” Oliver yelled behind you. You turned to face him.

You tried to be nice. “I’m sorry. I didn-“

“Oh stop! This is unbelievable. We were good together. You don’t need this crap Mags. Just get in the car with me and I’ll take you to the hospital. You will never be safe with him. Never. Now come on and forget about him. Let’s go. What is it, him or me?” He held his hand out for you to take.

“Oliver.” You sighed. “It was always going to be him. I’m sorry.”

With that, Oliver took a swing at Bucky’s face. He wasn’t excepting it and stumbled trying to avoid it, losing his grip on you, and you fell to the ground. Bucky’s metal hand snapped up, gripped around Oliver’s neck. Pure terror flooded his face.

“STOP!!! James, stop!! Please don’t.” You begged. You reached up quickly and wrapped both hands around his flesh hand. He stopped his motion. “Take me home baby, just take me home and forget about him. He’s not worth it. I just want to go home.” You pleaded one last time.

Bucky released him, pushing him as he did. Bucky leaned down and picked you up again. You melted into him, laying your head on his shoulder. “The car is just across this field. Come on baby, I got you.” he purred.

“James,” you said weakly.

“Yes?” he replied, but you had already passed out.

Next Chapter

@chipilerendi @pastelxvirgo @fuckthatfeeling @dillpicklesunflowerseed @twintwin125 @thatsokayleigh @vogueworthy-barnes @msesther19 @imyessieakiyama @dazedbarnes @oh-sandyyy @jimesu @jsmith509 @sebastianstanistheloveofmylife @vaperongal4life@thatbitchcatherine @haleynepema @whyy-is-everything-so-heavy@risingherorpg @justreadingfics

#mob!bucky #buckybarnes #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #rulesweremade

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closetspngirl · 6 years

Text

Love Heals the Soul (Part 3) - Convention Weekend

Summary: Briana talks reader into going to the Vancouver Supernatural Convention...which could be interesting

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Word Count: 2100

Warnings: None, unless I missed something, if that’s the case, please let me know

A/N: This one got a little wordy in the middle, sorry. Also, I couldn’t help myself with this gif. lol Italicized are lyrics, POV thoughts or text conversations; you can tell by the context.

---

The following Tuesday Briana came into the café after wrapping for the day. She had texted, letting you know she was coming over, and you had her dirty chai ready and waiting for her when she got there. You were sitting over in the corner where it was quiet, two oversized chairs and a small table.

“How was work today?” You asked, sipping on your peppermint tea.

“Exhausting, more so emotionally. Donna is having quite the time in this episode” she sighed.

Knowing she couldn’t give you more than that, despite being your best friend, you ended the topic with a friendly “I’m sure it’ll be great. I can’t wait to see it. So, convention weekend, huh?” You asked her, taking a sip of your tea.

“Yeah! That’s why I wanted to stop by actually. You’ve been a fan of the show for some time now,” she started.

“Uh huh…”

“And we haven’t spent a lot of time together because of you being busy here at the café and me with work,” she continued.

“Uh huh…Bri, out with it!”

“So will you be my plus one to the convention this weekend?” she finally finished, waiting with bated breath for your response.

You sat there staring at her. “Um. Come again? You can do that? I’m not with the show, how can I be a plus one?” you questioned.

“Well, you couldn’t do the panels or anything, or be a part of the photo ops. But we could totally get pictures of us and the other cast members at the end of the con. There’s always Karaoke Friday night, the Saturday Night Special, and just a ton of fun in between. I promise you won’t be bored, or feel awkward and we’ll be able to hang out all weekend, unless I’m doing a panel and ops of course. But it’s still a lot of fun.”

“Bri. Take a breath.” You managed to get out, seeing as she wasn’t letting you get a word in edge wise, clearly trying to get you to go.

“So, you’ll go?” She asked, big smile on her face. “Did I mention you make a really good dirty chai?”

“Wow. Way to butter a girl up to get what you want there, Bri.” You said with a laugh. “But sure, since you practically made up my mind for me.”

“Yay!!” she squealed as she jumped up to hug you. “It starts with a pajama party Thursday night with Kim and I, then it actually gets going Friday and ending Sunday. Think you can go all weekend?”

Thinking about it, you didn’t have any cake orders, your product was really stocked up. You were suddenly thanking yourself for putting in those 12 and 13-hour days for the last couple of weeks. There wasn’t anything going on that your assistant couldn’t handle.

“Sure!” was all you had to give her.

“Great! I’ll text you tomorrow. We can share a room at the hotel if you want. I know we all live in the city, but it’s just easier being in the same place as everything going on. Pack comfy and cute clothes, and maybe a bottle of wine, no, definitely a bottle, or two. And some of your wonderful pastries! Can’t forget those.”

And just like that she was out the door, leaving you to think about the coming weekend, which was when you realized what you just said yes to. The convention…in Vancouver…where they film; Briana, Kim, Jared…and Jensen. An entire weekend being surrounded by the cast, including a certain green eyed man. Yeah, this was going to go well.

***

You left work Wednesday, feeling excited about the coming weekend. You went over everything with your assistant, with her reassuring you that everything would be fine while you were gone, practically pushing you out the door. You always did have a hard time taking vacations or time off of any sort, just because you worried about something happening while you were away.

When you got back to your apartment, you started making a packing list of everything you needed for the weekend. You tried to pack light, but that never happened with you, although you were trying to remind yourself that, on the chance you needed anything, you were just a quick drive from the hotel.

Looking through your closet, you pulled out a few different items. Keeping in mind that Briana told you to dress comfy, you decided to leave the heels at home, and opted for your converse. They were pretty versatile, and with a cute pair of sandals and black flats, you had options. You pulled out a pair of jeans, a couple of old band t-shirts and a short waisted black leather jacket. It was light enough that you wouldn’t over heat or get tired of wearing it.

You also pulled out a super cute maxi dress with a floral pattern that you paired with a denim jacket. Looking again at everything hanging up, your eyes fell on a blue flannel shirt, so cozy you could live in it, and you practically did; rolled sleeves, worn, but not worn out. You took it off the hanger, with a simple white tank top to go underneath, and put them in your bag. You knew the outfit of choice of the show was flannel, so you felt weird bringing it with you. You weren’t a super-fan, and honestly, felt a little silly having it be one of your choices. But it was the most comfortable thing you had, in every sense of the word. You moved on to the bathroom, grabbing the essentials, then on to the rest of the apartment tidying up since you would be gone all weekend.

After packing and cleaning, you changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and settled on the couch with your favorite mug, filled with peppermint tea of course, flipping through Netflix debating between a movie or watching any one of the series you had seen four times over. Each. Of course you picked a series, and of course it was Supernatural, because why not, when you were about to spend all weekend with the cast. You had seen all of the seasons, multiple times, but they never failed to bore you. And because you had seen them before, it allowed you to zone out if you wanted, or even fall asleep. Realizing that all of those late days at the café were starting to catch up with you, sleep was becoming very apparant. As you lay on the couch, curled up under a blanket, you could feel your eyelids getting heavy. Trying to stay focused on Dean and Sam saving people and hunting things, your eyes finally closed, those green eyes and beautiful smile, being the last thing you saw before you slipped away.

The next day, you felt the sun on your face, warm and bright. You slowly realized that you don’t get the morning sunlight in your bedroom, which made you wonder what happened. It was when you tried to move, feeling the pain shoot up your forearm, that you remembered that you had fallen asleep on the couch. Moaning while trying to get your body to move, you sat up, trying to clear your head. That was a mistake; I will definitely regret that later today. You looked at your phone, seeing that Briana had texted you just a little bit before you woke up.

B: Morning!!! You ready for tonight?!

Y/N: Ugh. Morning. I will be once I get my body sorted out. Passed out on the couch last night. Complete mistake.

B: Go for a run, do some yoga, work it out. I’ll be by at 5 to get you.

Y/N: Hmm. I haven’t been on my mat for a while, that does sound nice. See you at 5.

Changing into something more suitable for yoga, you lit a candle, put some relaxing music on and rolled out your mat. It felt good to center yourself and move your body.

---

After a shower you went out and got a bite to eat, not really feeling like cooking anything. You also had to get a couple bottles of wine, per Bri’s suggestion, as well as a box of pastries from the café. Not knowing what anyone liked, assuming they made it past the three of you, you picked out an assortment, making sure to grab something chocolate, you know, just in case. You may have been amped up on adrenaline at the open mic night, but you didn’t fail to notice that Jensen had been eating a piece of chocolate cake; and now that you thought about it, you weren’t even sure if he knew you were the one that made everything.

You were sitting on the couch reading a magazine when there was a knock on your door. Jumping up, you went to answer it.

“Bri! Finally!” You pulled her in for a hug.

“Relax, I’m five minutes late, you try getting out of the house with a four-year-old.” She said with a laugh. “You all ready to go?”

“As I’ll ever be, I guess.” Letting out a nervous laugh, remembering what this weekend was all about, again.

“Great! Let’s go!” Briana said as she grabbed your bag. Seeing your brace on the counter, she picked it up, gave you a knowing look, and stuck it in your purse. You knew you’d thank her at some point this weekend, you were sure.

***

Thursday night was a whirlwind of activity and people and photos. It was great seeing some of the fans that joined in on the pajama party interact with Briana and Kim. You were in awe of the two of them, such down to earth and beautiful souled women. You found yourself smiling, watching them laughing with a couple of fans, taking a few selfies. The rest of the night was a blur, laughing, talking, making friends and of course, singing was involved. Briana and Kim ended the night and you all made your way up to the room you were sharing. It really was like a sleepover all weekend; you weren’t upset at that, you missed the company.

“Ok ladies, here is the wine and the pastries.” You said as you pulled them out of your bag.

“Sweet! Uhh…No pun intended…?” said Kim. Pulling out a bottle of whiskey from her bag. “By the way Y/N, the pastries you sent back with Jensen the other day were amazing! I’m so glad you brought these!” She said taking a raspberry macaron out of the box and taking a bite.

“Yeah, Kim wasn’t the only one that enjoyed them. Someone barely even shared the box with the rest of us!” Briana said, making you blush. Knowing both of them saw.

Trying your best to play off the next question, and really hoping you could ask it without any further interrogation, you chanced it and asked with a light laugh, “Is he even aware that I’m the one making all of these?”

“Probably not, it is Jensen after all” Briana responded, giggling from the wine and eating a pistachio eclair.

Kim was all over the questioning of the evening. “So…speaking of Jensen, what’s going on with the two of you?”

Looking between the both of them, and quite confused, wine glass almost to your lips, all you could respond with was “Nothing” and a shrug of your shoulders. “He came to open mic night, then to pick up coffee, literally nothing has happened” you went on.

“But if it did…” she continued.

“I don’t know. I guess I’d see what would happen…?” You actually never had thought about that. Sure, he was handsome, seemed to be sweet, funny and charming. His smile was something you could look at all day. His slight Texan accent, well that was a whole other story. And his eyes. Those gorgeous emerald gems…

“Hello. Earth to Y/N. You still with us?” Briana said, waving her hands in front of your face.

“Hm? What? I was just trying to…yeah I got nothing. I was thinking about Jensen. Happy? But it was Kim’s fault, she brought him up” You said matter of factly with a groan and laugh, knowing how much trouble you were in.

“I knew it!!” Exclaimed Briana. The three of you now laughing, still drinking and eating the treats.

A couple hours later you all called it a night, so that you could get up early for breakfast, some much needed coffee, and the start of the convention.

You and Bri got into bed, sharing one of the two queen size beds in the room, while Kim took the other. “How are you feeling, you ok?” She asked, looking over. You knew what she meant. She was always looking out for you.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You said with a small smile, laying down gingerly, looking forward to sleep.

Tags: @maralisa124

#love heals the soul #jensen x reader #spn

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